


Reversal of Fortune

by Rigel99



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Art, Blood, Could This Be Love?, Dark Will, Empath Will, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, First Kiss, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Manipulative Will, Murder Husbands, Original Character(s), Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Slow Build, life goes on - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 26,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5161487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the fall from the bluff, Will's mind has been reset. How can Hannibal resist such an opportunity?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The first thing he became aware of was the rhythmic sound of the sea soothing him back to consciousness. It was still dark, so it hadn’t been long since their plunge from the bluff above.

Flashes of their dance with the Dragon seared black and bright across the inside of his eyelids, still shut against the lap of the waves washing over his face. He willed his body to respond, exhausted and limp from battling Dolarhyde and the unrelenting pull of the Atlantic’s powerful embrace. And embrace it surely was. He had survived. He wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of a God that would spare him yet again, but he didn’t have the energy.

Hannibal felt the expanse of flat, cold rock beneath that supported his back. He tilted his head first to the left to assess his position and then to the right, where his gaze fell upon the sprawled out body of Will Graham, chest down, his cheek pressed against the rock, just five feet away. The gash on his face was bleeding, though not profusely. Hannibal could tell he was still alive, albeit barely so.

Hannibal considered his options. He should finish him now. Could he require any more evidence that Will would never completely embrace his own beautiful darkness, that he could so blatantly attempt to sacrifice both their lives in the face of what he himself had moments before professed as “beautiful”? The battle within Will was too great. Neither side would ever concede defeat. The war would be never-ending. Best to take the matter in hand and resolve the conflict. It would be a mercy to free Will from this life. Hannibal’s last gift to him…

He heard the painful groan as he shuffled his body closer. Will was regaining consciousness. Both were weakened from the slaughter and the fall, he would have to use what little advantage he had quickly.

But wait….

He watched as Will gently and with great effort pushed his upper body up and rolled to sit up on the rock. Hannibal carefully surveyed his face. There was a familiarity to it that did not belong to Will.

He conjured up a memory from his time as a surgeon. A boy who had suffered a rather serious fall, pushed off a sidewalk and into the path of a car as he was robbed. On the surface the concussion had not looked serious but when he regained consciousness it was obvious how serious was his condition. Hannibal continued to study Will’s face as he recalled the incident.

“What— what happened? Where am I?” he mumbled, the questions barely audible above the sound of the sea.

His voice was laced with confusion. His expression blank like a slate wiped clean, a mind reset.

Will Graham had amnesia.

Hannibal edged closer until he was inches from Will. “Be still,” he said. “We both took a serious fall. I’m amazed we survived at all…”

“What? I don’t understand… I don’t rememb—.“ He looked at Hannibal his brow furrowed, trying to recall the memories that weren’t there, skirting just out of sight before his mind’s eye could bring them into view.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked Hannibal gently, his hand on his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.

Will’s hand rose to touch the gash on his face, grimacing at the pain as he did so. Hannibal took off a sock and placed it over the wound to help stem the minor blood flow.

“It’s all a jumble of images,” he replied, eyes closed. “I can’t make any sense of it…”

Hannibal remained silent, influencing with radiated calm.

“Blood and mirrors. Flowers. Walls of antlers. Steel tables and dead bodies…” His eyes were looking increasingly wild as the fragments of memory manifested in his mind. He looked at Hannibal in abject desperation. “I don’t even remember my name,” he groaned, gripping Hannibal’s upper arm frantically.

In that moment, Hannibal made a decision. Mostly because he could, but mostly because he was curious to see what would happen.

He pulled Will close in a gesture of comfort and protection. Today was not his day to die. “I can help you.” He pulled back to look in his eyes. “If you trust me and will allow me.”

Will nodded firmly.

“Good,” said Hannibal, pulling him close again. “I can at least tell you your name.”

“You know me?” the hope in Will’s voice evident.

“I know you well, and I’m going to do everything in my power to help you find yourself again…”

He took his face in his hands and bore his gaze into Will’s, making his eyes Will’s only point of reference before speaking again.

“Your name, is Hannibal Lecter…”


	2. Chapter 2

It is indeed a terrible thing to have your identity taken from you. No one felt that as keenly as Hannibal, he who treasured it so, his legacy to the world, with the fervour of a blind man who had regained his sight.

But to give your identity willingly to someone? Surely that must be considered the greatest gesture of sacrifice, particularly where love is the motivation for such an act.

And love Will Graham he did. He had never denied that to himself. He loved him in every way. His light, his dark, his inner conflict, the blind desire to protect those who would use him for what they convinced him was the greater good. He loved him in his dreams, in his waking thoughts, in his memory palace. He knew he would love him dead as well, because then he would be his and his alone, with no further interference from lesser mortals.

But, not yet. There was still so much unchartered territory to explore. New terrain that had inadvertently been mapped out by Will in his attempt to unite them in death.

After tending to his own bullet wound with a little help from Will, he was stitching the wound on Will’s face, as gently and with as much care as he could in an effort to minimise the inevitable future scar.

“Try to keep still,” Hannibal chided. “Frowning while I stitch you is inadvisable.”

“Sorry,” Will mumbled quietly.

“You are trying to force the memories and that will likely chase them further away from your consciousness,” he said.

“Distract me then,” Will replied. “Tell me about Will Graham. I’d like to get to know better the man who tried to save me from myself.” 

“Focus on me, as I am focussed on mending your wound. We are both still weak and drained, and I don’t believe I have the energy to recount my biography and our mutual history while sewing you back together.”

Will took the hint and studied Hannibal’s face while he dressed his wound. He was unusual looking in a rather attractive way, and his voice held a confidence and assuredness that made Will relax under his gentle ministrations. He had the hands of an artist, counter to the frame of his body. He wasn’t the kind of man you’d set out to get on the wrong side of if you wanted to keep your bones intact.

“There,” said Hannibal, as he snipped the thread.

“Thank you, Will,” said Will. He raised his fingers to gingerly touch it. “Do you think it will scar?” 

“Certainly,” said Hannibal, “but I believe my skill in these matters will keep any obvious long-term damage to a minimum.”

Will rose from the table. “Would you mind if I lay on the couch? While we talked?”

“Not at all,” replied Hannibal, as Will retreated to the welcoming comfort of the cushions and reclined his head on the armrest.

“So, I get the impression from your behaviour we have known each other for some time.”

Hannibal was tidying away the first aid kit as he spoke. “You have been nothing less than a brother to me, Hannibal. As I hope to help you remember that I have been to you also.”

Throughout their silent interlude, as Will had been gazing at him while he stitched, evidently seeking some reference of familiarity to identify Hannibal’s place in his life, Hannibal had been formulating their mutual histories. Only a few minor tweaks would be required. Anything more elaborate might jolt him back to himself, much like a bolt of electricity to the body can sometimes reanimate the lifeless. Hannibal would aim for a seamless intertwining of their lives. He had long since resigned himself to the fact that it was an exercise in futility to try and discern where Will Graham began and Hannibal Lecter ended, as impossible as identifying the same qualities in a Moebius Strip. The time they had spent in each other’s minds would make this a relatively simple exercise. Will’s first admission in revealing the shattered fragments in his mind had told Hannibal that his own “crimes” were front and centre of Will’s existence, so immersed in each other they had become.

And well, should his plan fail? It would be a simple enough task to kill him.

Hannibal moved his chair next to the couch where Will lay. He almost smiled at the scene of psychiatrist and patient, back where they belonged. Hannibal wondered how many more times, in how many other lives, they had and would re-enact this part of their play.

Hannibal allowed his countenance to adopt that well-worn expression of confidante and friend. “Do you trust me, Hannibal?”

Will opened his eyes and smiled before replying. “I would say the fact that you tried to save me and I almost ended up killing you in the process puts you in a very strong position of trust, Will.”

“Good. Because what I am about to tell you will come as a shock. I need you to prepare yourself for revelations that could potentially destroy or create you.”

“I’m ready,” Will said with a measure of calm that even Hannibal couldn’t help but be slightly impressed.

Hannibal feigned a deep breath. “Your name is Hannibal Lecter. You are arguably the most brilliant profiler of the criminal mind that has ever worked for the FBI.”

Hannibal felt Will watching him so he closed his eyes and pulled his mouth into a thin line, conveying a feeling of discomfiture before continuing.

“You are also a highly prolific serial killer who cannibalises his victims.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal was the epitome of preparedness. Through the years, he’d even developed a knack for negotiating the terms and conditions adhered to his position in life with Death himself. He hadn’t survived the traumas of war, the unwitting cannibalisation of his sister and numerous encounters with the extremes of society - lawful and unlawful - only to be thwarted by his own reflection.

As soon as Will had resumed their therapy sessions, Hannibal had begun preparations. He knew Will would follow, as sure as night follows day. And while he hadn’t planned on the fall from the bluff, nor the glorious gift of amnesia with which Will now was afflicted, he was nothing if not adaptable to circumstances as and when they may demand such a response.

A soft groggy, groan cut through the darkness. As expected, Will had not reacted well - though an entirely understandable response - to the news that he was a serial killer. Hannibal, wise enough in these matters, had observed the instance his eyes had turned dark with fury and denial, and deftly administered the sedative he had kept to hand for said eventuality. He had then undertaken a vigil by the couch where Will had been sleeping peacefully for several hours.

Hannibal reached out as he spoke and placed a hand on his shoulder. “How do you feel, Hannibal?”

“Groggy, disorientated, confused,” Will croaked. “I feel as though I’m singlehandedly barring the Gates of Hell while an army of demons push against it trying to escape.”

“I’m sorry that my revelations caused you such distress,” Hannibal said, his voice suitably rueful in its timbre. “In my experience as a psychiatrist, a quick and unhesitating removal of the band aid, while causing intense pain, is alleviated by the brevity of the experience. It is no different where human consciousness is concerned.”

“Considerate of you to wish to get my internal meltdown over with as quickly as possible,” Will replied.

“I have the benefit of months of experience, having held long and extensive therapy sessions with you during your tenure at the FBI.”

Will rose from the couch into a sitting position. The sun was rising and he looked ragged in the half-light. As though he had indeed been facing down dark demons in the night. “You’ll forgive me if my next question is incredibly obvious.”

“Go ahead,” replied Hannibal, placing a hand on his knee. “I am here to help you get through this in any way I can.”

“If I’m such a prolific killer, why haven’t I disposed of you?”

Hannibal assumed a thoughtful, almost sombre expression. “We assumed a tentative alliance, shortly after you framed me for some of your murders.”

Will deadpanned. “How enterprising of me… I must be a truly exceptional form of insanity to frame my own psychiatrist for my misdeeds.”

“You are exceptional in many ways, Hannibal. It’s why we became so close. Why, in fact, the lines between psychiatrist and patient blurred.”

“We blurred,” said Will plainly. He paused. “We killed together, didn’t we.”

“Yes.”

“Did I kill for you?”

“You may have made one or two extravagantly bloody gestures of affection in my name.”

“Did you approve, Will?”

“Of your manner of demonstrating gratitude for giving you the freedom of self-expression?” Hannibal paused. “It was difficult at first. When you revealed yourself to me, I was torn between duty to my profession and rapture at your becoming. I was selfish. I allowed my compassion for you to dictate my actions. Many people died because of my choices where you were concerned.”

“Sacrifices to our Gods are necessary to appease them. Imagine the divine havoc otherwise.” Will continued. “When exactly did you realise? What I am?” 

“Shortly after our first meeting, I became aware of what you were capable of, though knowing how empathic your nature, I did not consider you capable of acting directly upon it.”

“And then you realised extreme acts of cruelty require a high level of empathy. I am capable of righteous violence because of my compassion.”

“Righteous violence, yes. Justified under certain mitigating circumstances, perhaps. But soon compassion for your victims became passion for the kill. I sought to bring you back from that brink by helping you kill the Dragon.”

“The Dragon?”

“Yes. Francis Dolarhyde. The man we killed before you jumped from the cliff and dragged me along for the ride.”

Will furrowed his brow and closed his eyes. “I don’t remember… The flashes in my mind are like a part-edited movie, clipped and lying in a jumble on the floor.”

Hannibal rose. “If you’ll permit me, I’d like to try some hypnotherapy in an effort to recover your memories or perhaps piece together what’s there.”

“Agreed. I think that’s worth trying,” Will said.

“First, we should eat. I’m not much of a cook,” Hannibal said with a shrug, “but I’m sure neither of us could stomach much more than coffee and toast at the moment.”

Will leaned back on the couch again. “Something hot and dry sounds wonderfully refreshing after the night we’ve had…”


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next several days, Hannibal began weaving together his own blood-encased memories into the tapestry of Will’s mind. It was thrilling. It was so mentally satisfying, Hannibal couldn’t recall a more enthralling psychological experience. And it was eerie how easily and willingly the former profiler embraced those memories, coiling around them protectively and proudly like a python mother would surround her newborn offspring.

It had been four nights since the fall. The hypnotherapy had been going well, at least according to Hannibal’s plans. He felt rested and complete, back on familiar ground, shaping and reshaping the beautiful mind. 

But as Dr Frankenstein himself could testify, there were inherent risks that came with creating a monster.

So it was on the fourth night, Hannibal awoke to the feel of cool steel against his throat. While the threat was there, Hannibal himself did not feel threatened. 

“I remembered something,” came Will’s whisper against his cheek.

“Something that gives you cause to be holding a knife to my throat, Hannibal?”

“Something that makes me wonder why you are helping me. A girl. Someone very close to you, Will. Her name…”

“…Was Abigail. And yes. She was my daughter.”

Will watched the tears collect in the corner of Hannibal’s eyes as he recalled the night in question. “You called what we - you and I - had together beautiful, that such beauty could only be truly realised if nothing stood between us.”

He looked up at Will from his vulnerable position on the bed. The well-rehearsed expression of sorrow dressing his face. “Then you slit her throat in front of me.”

Will withdrew the knife slowly and sat on the side of his bed, shoulders slumped. Hannibal sat up. “It was at that moment I realised how much you loved me, how you love exclusively and to the sacrifice of all else.”

He placed a hand on his shoulder. “It took me a long time to forgive you. But I did.”

Will tilted his head to look over his shoulder at Hannibal in the soft light. His gaze rested on his lips, his chest, his arms, before returning to his eyes.

“If you forgave that must mean…”

“That I love you? Yes. You really left me no choice.”

Hannibal lay back down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “Once I began exploring your mind, I became enraptured with your darkness. As I said, people died because of the choices I made, choices for which it would be all too easy to lay blame at your door.”

“You know me…”

“Intimately,” said Hannibal, “though not intimately in all ways.”

“Monsters do not love, Will, they are incapable of that emotion,” the shadow by his side murmured softly. “They consume the beauty of others thinking it will transform them. They are a vacuum, coveting and devouring what they are not themselves,” said Will, almost to himself. “It is likely the only reason I covet you. I desire to become you…”

Hannibal could barely disguise his elation at the words spilling from Will’s lips. It was as though he was talking to a version of himself that completely understood every facet of his being that defined him. He was gaining insights that he never knew he needed. Designed by Will, defined by his empathy.

Hannibal reached out to lay his hand on the one that rested by Will’s side. Will's eyes briefly glanced down before rising up to meet Hannibal’s gaze. “I do not fear you, Hannibal. Let me help you. Become me…”

The seconds stretched out as Will stared at Hannibal, contemplating the invitation. Seconds later, the knife caught the moonlight streaming through the window, glinting dangerously as it fell to the floor, forgotten.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning they shared a quiet breakfast. Chiyoh, ever devoted, had kept her promise to watch over Hannibal, providing food and medical supplies for the duration of the time they would need to stay concealed while the FBI intensified their search.

Hannibal, sitting opposite Will, observed from his peripheral vision while Will stole the occasional glance wearing the look of a man who had found his anchor. He recalled the time Will had shared his feelings about his house in Wolf Trap, floating like a ship in the calm, a place to which he felt bound and safe. The expression he wore now, was not so removed from that same look when he recounted his thoughts on his little cottage.

Hannibal reached for the coffee pot. He met Will’s gaze when he felt their hands come to rest together on its handle.

“Thank you, Will.”

Hannibal smiled. “You do need to thank me, Hannibal. Believe me when I tell you, I gleaned as much satisfaction from last night’s—“

Will closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, not just last night. Though it was an unexpected and gratifying experience.” He withdrew his hand and looked down at his coffee cup. “I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth, Hannibal,” he said, a genuine smile gracing his features. In fact, Hannibal had been surprised by the turn of events himself. This was a new element of Will that had never really been given the opportunity to come to the fore before, his empathy, and the internal daily battle he endured because of it, being too overpowering to ever truly enjoy the experience of physical gratification on mutual terms. While last night had been tentative, gentle and exploratory, there had been an intensity to it in which Hannibal had revelled, the push and pull of two natures at complete odds but completely at peace with each other. It had left him breathless.

Their interlude was interrupted by a shuffling noise by the front door. While all of Hannibal’s survival instincts kicked in, he tamped them down to see first how Will would respond.

Will tilted his head towards the sound, while placing a reassuring hand over Hannibal’s again. “Just an animal I think…”

Regardless he rose and grabbed a kitchen knife from the block nearby before moving soundlessly towards the door in his bare feet.

Hannibal felt his heart quicken minutely as he watched Will reach for the handle.

A soft whine accompanied a dark, wet nose pressing through the gap near the floor. Will let the door slid open a little more and watched as the dog skulked in, his head down in submission and fear. He kept his body low and unthreatening as he moved towards the table where Hannibal sat. Hannibal watched Will’s face for any signs of recognition or remembrance of the life he had shared with his pack.

Nothing. Interesting.

Hannibal took hold of a piece of bacon from his plate and fed it to the animal, who after a careful sniff and a slightly mistrustful look, took it gently from his fingers.

“He has good taste in humans. He likes you,” Will said, returning to the table after closing the door.

“More probably he likes bacon,” Hannibal replied, gently offering his hand so the animal could sniff it to allow establishment of trust. He had learned much about real human interaction with canines from observing Will in his former natural habitat.

Hannibal fingered the collar. The medallion on it had contact details.

“Mmmm,” he said, with a slight frown. “Not a stray so it is possible that someone will come looking for him.”

Will crouched down to study the collar himself. His eyes went dark with fury as his questing fingers traced something else on the collar, hidden beneath the blanket of fur.

“Is there something wrong?,” Hannibal asked, curious as from where the sudden wave of anger had manifested.

Will looked at him, eyes flaring. It was quite the beautiful sight, Hannibal thought to himself. “Killer I may be, but I abhor violence towards the defenceless. That kind of brutality does not deserve the oxygen it steals from the world.” He unbuckled the collar and held it up.

“An electrocution device,” he said, tossing it away with disgust into the far corner of the room.

Will stood and walked to the window. “I hope his owner does come looking for him.” He turned to Hannibal. “How would you like to kill together again, Will?”

Hannibal felt his heart thudding as he rose to stand beside him. “A rather unorthodox form of therapy to recover your memories, Hannibal.”

“A righteous act of violence might be just what the doctor ordered.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hannibal estimated the girl to be in her mid-teens, maybe fifteen, though it was so difficult to tell these days. She may well have been younger. Or older. She reminded him of Abigail. 

He sensed the fear radiating from her like waves against rock, the rock being the stern stance of Will, looming over her, arms folded. He could hardly blame her, standing in a remote abode, two strange men eyeing her with mild curiosity. The dog, a springer spaniel, sat quietly by Hannibal’s side while Will grilled the girl.

“So this is your dog?”

She nodded hesitantly, then thought better of her answer.

“Well, he’s my Dad’s. He lets me take him for a walk sometimes…” She tilted her eyes to the floor before turning her head to the side to look at the animal. His tail was thumping very slowly and very tentatively, Will observed, seemingly cautiously happy to see her though not overly enthusiastic. “We take what we can get when we’re allowed out of the house.”

“It’s fairly deserted round here. Are you lost?,” Will asked, trying to get the measure of their situation and if they were in any immediate danger of being discovered.

“We have a cabin in the forest. It’s about 3 miles from here. Dad likes to fish, hunt. Takes me with him…”

Will dropped his defensive guard a little. She was just a teenager after all. Hannibal scrutinised her in a slightly more objective light. Abigail too was just a teenager, a survivor and, as it turned out, a killer… He wondered what this girl’s destiny had in store. He sensed there was more to her than immediately met the eye. No doubt, he thought, Will’s intuition had delivered the same message to his mind.

Will crouched down in front of her. He motioned the dog to come over as Hannibal ceased his caressing hold of the hound’s neck. As the dog approached, Will revealed the collar he’d been holding by his side.

Both dog and girl cowered.

“Care to explain this?”

Her lips went thin, a hard, unyielding line as she subconsciously tilted her head to the side, revealing a mark on her neck, while a hand quickly went up to cover the offending line, a faint red line about an inch thick. It looked like an allergic reaction. Will didn’t need to ask.

He inched closer and put a gentle hand on her arm, softening his expression to one of gentle knowing. She flinched but held her ground. A good judge of character then, thought Hannibal. Will spoke quietly and in a soothing tone. “You’re safe here. We have no intention of hurting you.”

She shrugged. “It’s OK,” she said hoarsely. She met his eyes for the first time since stumbling into their path, shouting with a shrill edge of desperation in an effort to locate the dog. Her eyes were shining. “It’s not as though I’m not used to it.”

Hannibal saw Will’s bare flinch at those words and the colour of anger tinge his own neck.

He stood and took her shoulder leading her to the table. “How about first we get you and your friend something to drink, then I can take you home?”

She let herself be guided to a seat unresisting. “His name’s George.”

“Oh?,” Hannibal hazarded a guess, though wasn’t expecting to be correct. “After the President?”

“Yeah,” she replied popping herself gingerly on the seat opposite him while Will went to fill a glass and a bowl of water. “But after the first one, you know. The Bush administration sucked.”

Hannibal and Will exchanged a glance and a slight smile. Obviously a smart one then. 

Hannibal kept his gaze on Will as he hovered by the sink, taking a moment to compose his thoughts, while the girl stroked and comforted her retrieved spaniel. Hannibal was struck by the Universe’s determination to place them in the path of situations that could potentially jog Will’s memory, trigger elements of his amnesia-repressed former life. He wondered if he was closer to recovering those memories. 

And contemplated what action he would be forced to take when that occasion arose. Hopefully he could enjoy the personification of himself in the embodiment of Will Graham for a little longer before that unfortunate scenario was forced to play out.

* * *

“Stop here?" 

Will slowed the car to a halt. Hannibal had wanted to come with them, but Will advised together, if spotted, they would be much more conspicuous. He was, of course, correct. Hannibal had acquiesced. “Very well. But if you’ve not returned within the hour, I’m sending the cavalry.”

“Oh?,” Will said jokingly, “you and who’s army?”

“Where you are concerned, I am army enough,” came the reply without a hint of humour. Will had left him wondering what he had done, besides rob the man of his daughter, to deserve such unreserved loyalty. His desire to recover his lost memories was fast being subsumed by his selfish need and want for him.

“The cabin’s just down there,” she said, pointing through the line of trees that banked the road.

“Probably best if you don’t come with,” she said. “I’m in enough trouble already and if I turned up with a good-looking guy beside me, he’d totally lose the plot.”

Will frowned but nodded in agreement. He had no desire himself to be seen. He still couldn't help the question before thinking better of knowing more. “That bad?,” he asked. 

“You have no idea…,” she said with a sigh.

“Come on, George. Let’s go face the music.” She paused as she closed the door and spoke through the open passenger window. “I don’t even know your name.” Will contemplated for a moment giving her a false one but then thought better of it. “If you don’t know my name, I never existed, and you won’t have to lie about meeting me.”

She gave a small smile and nodded. “Fair enough, stranger. You can at least know mine. Amy. Amy Sloane. See ya round.”

Will smiled in return and knocked the ticking over vehicle into gear. He got about 300 metres down the road before stopping.

“Dammit.” Before she gave her name, she had been nothing more than a face in the crowd. Now, she had an identity. “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” he whispered as he thumped the steering wheel three times before looking back at the small light of the cabin twinkling through swaying branches.

“You’re going to regret this, Hannibal,” he murmured to himself, as he swung the vehicle round.

He got out of the car and walked quietly down the gentle slope. In the quiet of the woods, it was fairly easy to clearly hear the man shouting and the sobbing pleas from the girl he had just deposited back in the arms of evil.

Will didn’t hesitate as he stormed up the steps and pushed through the front door. He would recount later that such emotionally-driven behaviour was not exactly indicative of a sociopath in possession of a serial killer personality.

A heavyset man had the girl pinned with his hips to the kitchen counter, as he was fastening a collar round her neck, not dissimilar to the one Will had removed from the dog, the dog, who was currently cowering in the corner, torn between whining and growling. There was a gun on the table behind them, within arms reach of the man. It took Will about 3 seconds to absorb the scene.

Unfortunately for Will, he hadn’t exactly been subtle about his entry.

“AND WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?,” the man shouted, seeing Will standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Will lunged for the gun, but Daddy Sloane was closer and quicker.

“Tell me who you are before I blow your goddam brains out,” he growled through gritted teeth, as he cocked the weapon.

Will keeping his eyes on the man, watched peripherally as Amy reached from a knife from the block behind her. She didn’t hesitate as she drove it into his shoulder. The gun went off before he dropped it, the bullet narrowly missing Will’s head. Will was frozen to the spot. Memories danced at the edge of his mind again. Déjà vu tempted him, transporting him to the past. His past. Hannibal’s past. Images merged and meshed in a macabre dance.

“My…” A clock face. The numbers jumbled.

“My name…” White flashing lights danced.

“My name is…” A shadowy silhouette and a soothing voice lulled him back to the present.

“Are you OK?,” he heard Amy ask. He focussed on her, bringing her blurry shape into view. She was standing next to him, looking at the groaning, prone body of her father on the floor, the gun in her hand trained on him.

“This is my design…,” Will said, as he strode forward and wrenched the knife from Sloane’s back. He dragged the man to his feet and wrestled his head back on his shoulder while in one smooth move, he swept the knife from ear to ear, slitting his throat. He dropped the oozing heap, breathing heavily as he surveyed his work. Not elegant, not pretty, just effective. He felt the power surge, racing through his veins like the beat of a long lost lover returning home. He looked at Amy and smiled. She dropped the gun to her side and smiled back.

“I knew you’d come. I just knew…”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Hannibal heard the vehicle approach and the engine cut. He had half expected Will to abandon him. Under other circumstances and with his memories intact, there was little doubt in his mind that he would have done so. However, the new bond they had forged these past five days, the unexpected and tender passions expressed by Will the other night, had left him confident that they were well and truly bound in all senses of the word.

What Hannibal had not expected, was this.

He lifted his eyes from the book with which he had attempted to occupy himself when the door crashed open.

Will stood in the doorframe looking like a blood-soaked Caravaggio. Hannibal was about certain the look on his face was similar to that which graced his features as he had watched Clark Ingram crawl out of the belly of a horse. He quickly recovered his senses as he rose slowly from the chair. 

“Hannibal…,” he began, “what happ—?”

In three strides, Will walked up to him, and placing bloodied hands on either side of his neck, he wrestled him against the table, pinning him with his hips, his hands and after a split second of hesitation and searching Hannibal’s expression for any resistance, his lips.

Hannibal was barely a held breath away from losing himself in the bloodlusted moment but somehow managed to drag his lips away from Will’s.

“What have you done, Hannibal?” 

It was obvious what he had done but Hannibal needed to hear him say it, to process the act before it consumed Will. He had never truly killed for killing’s sake before. What new beast this would unleash needed to be tamed before it split Will’s mind in half.

“Righteous violence, Will,” he panted against Hannibal’s lips. “A life taken for a life destroyed.”

Aside from the moment of lust, driven by his empathy to share the experience, Hannibal had never seen Will in such control of himself. He fought back the arousal threatening to breach his own control, almost succumbing to the feel of Will’s hips against his. He needed to assess the situation immediately.

“Hannibal,” he whispered gently, coaxing the animal with soothing words, running his hands down and up his upper arms. “Breathe with me.”

Will’s gaze fell to his mouth and he shifted forward again to press those lips to his own.

“No,” said Hannibal, ducking away. “Tell me what happened. I need to know. Share your moment with me.”

Will looked him in the eye as an expression of reverence came to his face.

“It was beautiful, Will. The feel of bare flesh pressing against the knife edge, the smooth slice as it yielded to the pressure of my desire to cut that cancerous pig out of the fabric of this world.”

He looked at his bloodied hands as he continued. “The warmth of the blood slowly fading as it flowed from his neck.”

He took a step back. “And through it all, she watched. I did it for her. I did it to save her.”

He moved forward again, back into Hannibal’s space. “Righteous violence. And it was glorious.”

Hannibal didn’t need any more detail to picture the scene clearly, a merging of their first encounter with Garrett Jacob Hobbs and the first time he “murdered” Abigail. He was becoming one with Will Graham and he was powerless to stop it. His own reflection stared back at him, in the beautiful, unbridled form of Will Graham. Hannibal was overcome with an intense urge to rip open Will’s chest, tear out his heart and occupy that vacated space for eternity.

Instead, he opted for pragmatism. The urges could wait. “You’ve put us at risk, Hannibal. It’s only a matter of time before the police come.”

“We have three days,” said Will calmly.

“Go on,” said Hannibal, intrigued, by this incarnation of himself.

Will had regained his composure, borrowing much of it from what was radiating from Hannibal’s steely calm demeanour. “Amy will clean up the scene of the crime,” he said as he took a seat, ignoring the drying blood on his hands and clothes. 

“In three days she will report her father missing. He had gone on an extended hunt. Amy got worried when George came back alone. The police will search, find a mangled body with missing parts a few miles from here. A body belonging to Mr Sloane, who had fallen prey to a vicious bear attack.” 

Hannibal was impressed. “How can we trust this girl not to turn you in?”

“I saved her life. That, and she herself is an accessory to murder. More than enough incentive, I’d say, to stay her tongue,” he said coolly. “I may have lost my memories, but I think some…natural tendencies are simply hard-wired in the subconscious.”

 _Hardwired indeed,_ thought Hannibal. _Unexpected developments yield unexpected results._

“Tell me, Will. In my former life, I must have been an exceptional chef, yes?”

“You were the finest in Baltimore, Hannibal. An invite to one of your dinner parties was the most sought after invite in town,” he smiled, knowingly. 

“And if we were… friends, I would have invited you into my inner sanctum?”

Hannibal nodded. 

“So you were being modest when you said you were a poor chef?,” Will enquired.

“Knowing what I know of your skill in the kitchen I would only embarrass myself were I to attempt anything more risqué than boiling an egg,” Hannibal said. 

Will stepped towards the door. “Well, maybe between the two of us we can cobble something together. I brought home some ingredients for dinner.” He turned and cast a predatory smile at Hannibal who again, found his heart skipping a beat. “We should, after all, take some of the prime cuts before we feed the leftovers to the bears…”


	8. Chapter 8

They butchered, they prepped, they cooked, they showered. 

They made love with Hannibal writhing above Will in ecstasy. They ate, and finally, they slept. Or rather Will slept while Hannibal stared thoughtfully at the empath curled up by his side. He caressed his hair, knowing all too well that the situation was becoming unsustainable. Will’s unleashed and unbridled passions would be the end of them both. Ergo, Hannibal would have to end him.

Such a pity, he mused. I was finding this incarnation of myself quite fascinating. All good things…

* * *

“And you are quite sure the wildlife in this region, specifically the bears, will come and take care of your… quarry?”

“Amy assured me. She and her father have hunted in this area here frequently. Predators are part and parcel of this wilderness,” Will replied. 

They had driven a few miles from the cabin and now walked side-by-side in the half light of the dawn, hauling the bags of body parts deeper into the forest. Hannibal watched the gentle shadows dance across Will’s features. Light and dark, playing against each other for dominance. An eternal, unresolvable dance of angel and demon. I thought I could reboot the chrysalis, truly shape it in my own image, Hannibal thought to himself. You left me no choice but to try Will, and now I do what I do with a measure of regret of which I had not considered myself capable.

“Once this is done,” Will continued, “we can leave this world behind and start again, Will.” He stopped and half looked over his shoulder, a slight upwards tilt to his head, as he took in the fading stars above through the gaps in the trees, features reminiscent of the former profiler. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world.”

Hannibal had fallen a step behind Will and out of his immediate peripheral vision. He slipped his hand into the inside of his jacket and drew out the needle.

“You have,” said Hannibal, as he stepped up behind him. He observed the moment of confusion, followed by realisation and the look of betrayal, ghost over Will’s face as he slipped the syringe into his neck. 

“And I have appreciated the company,” as he lowered Will’s pliant body to the cool, soft moss beneath his feet.

* * *

“I’m curious, Will. How long have you known?” Hannibal asked. Will, immobilised by the drug, but fully conscious, was sitting leaning at the base of a tree where Hannibal had placed him.

“That I’m not you? Does it matter?,” Will slurred, looking up at Hannibal through his drug-induced haze. “There is no beginning or end, no time to measure where you and I are concerned, Hannibal. I am the diastole, you are the systole. Do you really think, after finding me, you will survive separation?”

“I will survive, Will. As I have always done, long before you came into my life.”

“But it won’t be the same,” Will breathed. “I changed you.” 

“You certainly did. On that fact, I cannot disagree,” Hannibal said, as he arranged the bloody body parts around Will.

“Goodbye, Will. I shall miss our time together,” Hannibal said, as he turned from the scene.

“What?,” whispered Will. “Not taking any trophies?”

Hannibal turned and hunched down level with Will. “Not this time, no. This is your design, Will, not mine. I have chosen to respect that. Now that I have tasted you in other ways, ways that I found more satisfying than I expected, there is no need. As you said yourself, you changed me.”

“You have grown in unimaginable power, Will,” he said, standing again. “I can’t let that evolution continue. My compassion is no longer inconvenient, now that I have changed _you_ enough to let you go.”

And then he was gone.

* * *

It wasn’t long before Will heard the shuffling of a large body moving through the undergrowth in the morning light.

He closed his eyes, waiting for death. At least he wouldn't feel much thanks to the drug still numbing his nervous system and the electrical impulses that would shard up his body and into his brain, telling him of those final moments of agony.

The animal, a large bear, stumbled through the bushes to his right, obviously drawn by the scent of the bloody human carcass at Will’s feet. He opened his eyes again at the sound of the groan from the animal, watched as it collapsed a few feet away.

He barely had time to register the sight of the dart jutting out from the side of the animal, before another body came crashing from the bushes through which the bear had cleared a path.

“Amy…?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm keen to write a sequel. Maybe. Not sure I can bear not knowing what Will's design has become in the intervening months since Hannibal and he parted ways.

**_8 months later…_**

“Oh, I simply can’t wait to introduce you! You two have so much in common and his dinner parties?! I swear if you don’t just drop dead on the spot, I’ll kill you myself!,” she giggled, with a slight edge of madness to its sound.

“How long have you known him?” her companion asked, while gazing out the limousine window at the rows of opulent buildings that lined the gaping streets of the little utopian suburbia.

“Oh, I suppose he arrived in the area about 6 months ago? It didn’t take him long to slide into the elite circle of our little group. He’s a natural charmer, so suave. He knows about a half dozen languages and his voice? Well. Those dulcet tones could melt the heart of an iceberg! I swear, half the women have been trying to woo him but it’s obvious his proclivities lie in other directions, as far as I can tell. And I have a nose for these things!” she lilted, while tapping the side of said rather prominent feature.

“Indeed,” he replied, flashing her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m looking forward to meeting the mysterious and enigmatic… what did you say his name was, Mrs Clarfore?”

“Oh please, call me, Judith. Mrs makes me feel so OLD…! Rufus. His name is Henrik Rufus.”

The car slowed at the gated entrance. “Ah! Here we are!”

A few minutes later, they climbed from the car and headed up the steps to the entrance of the Rufus Residence.

With her younger companion gracing her arm, Judith Clarfore looked like she belonged. Her escort for the evening fed off this confidence and ease to fuel his own disquiet. It did not take long for him to locate the source of his rising trepidation.

“Oh! There he is! Come, James. You simply must meet him and his sister,” she said, leaning gently into him. “Well, half sister,” she whispered, conspiratorially.

There was no mistaking the frame of the man in front of him, standing with his back to them. Waxing lyrical about Italian art in that soothing but all-too-well-remembered deadly tone. And the woman? His… sister? Surely not…

“Henrik! Henrik!,” Judith called.

The man turned towards the voice. His heart stuttered at the sight of who he had left for dead on the side of a lonely, wood-covered mountain. Destiny, it seems, is nothing if not in possession of a sense of determination.

Will Graham had never looked more devastating to Hannibal Lecter's eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I know I said it was complete. But like Hannibal and Will, I'm very good at lying to myself...

Will hovered at the peripheral of Hannibal’s vision for the remainder of the evening, much as it had felt as though he had done his entire life. Though unsentimental about such things, Hannibal had always believed his equal and opposite existed somewhere in the Universe. He had just never considered the inevitability of that counterpart appearing so unexpectedly and with such unabated force, and the subsequent magnitude effect it would have on his life. The shape of a being, blurred and incoherent, had accompanied him on his journey and for a long time he had believed the shadow to be Mischa, a perpetual reminder of what he had lost and been searching for ever since. He was soon corrected of that belief on meeting Will Graham that fateful day in Jack Crawford’s office, when the shadow stepped into full and glorious view. That moment rekindled when he laid eyes on him again, now, eight months after he had left him to his fate. Hannibal’s expression kept calm and stoic as he extended a slender hand to take Will’s own in greeting. At that first touch, the predator within roused, stalking his mind for the possibilities that would capture this beautiful prey between the steel traps of his mind once again.

Such thoughts swarmed that niche in his mind while listening with rapt pretence to some inane discussion in which he was half-heartedly participating, not that his guests would notice, so wrapped were they in the sound of their own voices. While comfortable and in control in this kingdom of bounty he had established for himself, he felt his skin prickle as he brought his mind back to the present moment, thoughts of Will Graham making him suddenly more aware of the aura of the man nearby emanating towards him.

Hannibal looked up. Will was gazing at him, but it was not with the look of prey skittish and concerned of a pending attack. His expression truly reflected that of Hannibal. Predator. Hannibal was momentarily taken aback. The reality dawned. Frankenstein’s monster, that which he had created in his own image, no longer needed his father.He had become him. Identical but different. Truly. The uneasy feeling was quickly shunned and replaced in favour of something much more fitting a man of his standing as he returned the look. The times ahead would be nothing if not very interesting indeed.

They had exchanged little more than cool glances all evening, and one especially rousing one, where Hannibal watched Will as he selected a canapé from a passing tray. He raised his eyelids as he conveyed a small nod of knowing towards the host, slipping the meat between his lips and closing his eyes as he swallowed. He knew. Hannibal knew. For a moment, he was back in his study, but their roles reversed as he found himself being scrutinised by Will with breathtaking intensity, before Will turned his attention back to his companion, Judith Clarfore, barely missing a beat.

“Did I not know you well enough, Henrik, I would be envious of the one for whom those fires of affection blaze in your eyes. Is he as tempting the sight as you remember?” Bedelia asked, as she raised her wine glass to her lips.

Hannibal broke his gaze at Will to look at her. “You are my sister, Lyra, you have no need to worry about where my affections lie,” Hannibal replied quietly in her ear, leaning back to push the dark brown strands from her face as he spoke. 

She lowered her eyes demurely before casting a glance in Will’s direction and moving away to mingle with their guests. It would be a long evening. Hannibal would be sure to make the most of it. A new room in his memory palace was perhaps in order.

As the evening wound down and the guests were slowly thinning out, Hannibal and Bedelia took up position by the entrance to bid farewell to the rest of the straggling guests. Hannibal was taking note of who was who within this section of the slow moving herd. For future reference.

“Oh Henrik. And Lyra of course.” Judith Clarfore swayed their direction. “What an absolutely charming evening. It may be only the second time you’ve hosted but I know they will simply get better with every experience.”

“One aims to do what one can to cull the monotony of life by bringing together those who have cause to escape it and seek solace in the company of those who know it as keenly as they…” Hannibal said, taking her hand and gently pressing his lips to her knuckles.

“Quite so,” she nodded hesitantly, unsure of the remark. She turned to signal her companion who was bidding goodnight to a guest.

Will approached her side smoothly and calmly, a new grace to his movement that Hannibal couldn’t help but admire.

“I am only sorry that you and James didn’t have the opportunity to become better acquainted.”

“An oversight I would be more than happy to rectify, Judith, should you and James wish to join my sister and I for dinner in a more… intimate setting? Next week perhaps?,” Hannibal asked, looking at Will with a gentle smile that almost reached his eyes.

Bedelia was eyeing the exchange from his side with mild interest.

“Nothing would give me more pleasure, Henrik!” she blustered. She turned to Will. “James? I hope you will say yes?”

James smiled and nodded. “Of course, Judith. I’ve heard so many interesting murmurs about our host this evening, I would certainly welcome the opportunity to extract the wheat from the chaff over dinner with the subject matter himself.” 

He continued, turning his gaze on Hannibal. “And if tonight’s culinary offerings attest to anything, I would be denying myself the pleasure of knowing what further delights Mr Rufus can yield from the tip of a carving knife.”

Hannibal smiled in return. “I am no stranger to cooking for new acquaintances who rapidly become old friends. It’s settled then. I shall call you in a few days to arrange, Judith.”

Will’s composure throughout the exchange had been nothing short of flawless. They exited the door and Hannibal and Bedelia watched as they climbed into the limousine.

“Mind how you go!” called Hannibal. 

The parting comment had not been lost on Will. The times ahead would be nothing if not very interesting indeed.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Will stood before the painting that graced the main wall in the decadent dining room of the Rufus residence. He understood, in the core of his very soul, its significance.

He felt the air shift around him, punctured by the soundless movements of his former psychiatrist. He spoke without looking away from the artwork. “You have a very beautiful home, Mr Rufus. Your aesthetics are something to behold,” he said.

“Thank you,” Hannibal said, holding out a glass of red wine to Will, before raising his own to his nose to inhale its aroma mingling with that of the man standing next to him. He closed his eyes briefly to stifle the memories. “And please, James. I must insist you call me Henrik. I have a feeling you and I are destined to become very good friends. In a world so bereft of worthwhile company, one quickly becomes expert at recognising kindred spirits.”

“Kindred,” replied Will, “much like the subjects of this rather beautiful work of art?”

“You recognise it then,” said Hannibal, eyes trained on Will. 

“The Meeting on the Turret Stairs? Never a more appropriate representation of doomed love have I come across, in my humble opinion,” he said, finally allowing his eyes to meet Hannibal’s over the rim of his glasses.

Hannibal’s eyes lingered on Will’s face for just a moment before turning his attention to the work. “As Hellelil ascends, Hildebrand descends and for one preciously eternal moment, they capture each other.”

“And only in Death can they be united,” continued Will.

“It is the path of the weak to think that Death will bring two star-crossed souls together,” said Hannibal. “Such lovers simply do not have the stomach for life, nor the determination to fight for the love they harbour for each other, no matter what the cost.” 

There is a finality to Death that cannot be denied,” Hannibal continued, moving a little closer to Will, shoulder grazing against shoulder. Will did not shy from the touch. “Though I am of the contention that Death is not for everyone. Evidently.”

“Evidently,” Will whispered, nodding in agreement.

At that moment, Bedelia and Judith entered the dining room. Hannibal and Will took position behind their chairs to draw them out and allow them to be seated.

“Ladies,” said Hannibal, with a smile, as he poured a glass of the blood-coloured liquid for his guest. “I trust you enjoyed your tour of the house, Judith?”

“Breathtaking, Henrik,” she said in all sincerity. “Your eye for the beautiful, untamed and unique surely has no rival.”

“So I’m told,” Hannibal said, glancing at Will. “If I may borrow James for a moment more… Would you indulge me with your assistance in the kitchen, plating up and bringing in our meal?”

“It would be a pleasure,” said Will. “I’m looking forward to a re-education of my palate. Please. Lead the way. Henrik…”

As they left the room, their retreating backs watched by Judith and Bedelia, Judith sighed. “He’s such a lonely man.”

“How did you meet him?” enquired Bedelia.

“Oh, he came to an exhibition I was hosting a few weeks ago.” 

“The works from the museum in Vilnius?” said Bedelia. “I recall. You very much won Henrik over with that exhibition. He became quite enraptured with your excellent taste.”

“Well, I’m glad you both chose to grace our little community. I must say I’ve never met anyone quite like him. Such an intrigue!”

“That’s one word…” murmured Bedelia, into her glass of wine.

“Well, I should qualify that observation by saying I’ve never met anyone like Henrik until James wandered into my path. I found myself quite taken with him too, but alas, it was not meant to be,” she said wistfully. She sat up with a firm nod. “Still, the least I thought I could do was introduce him to someone equally as enamouring. Who knows what will come of their liaison?” she said with a playfully wicked smile.

“Who indeed,” replied Bedelia, heaving a breath. The world, Bedelia thought to herself, is about to tilt on its axis yet again. Seas will boil, mountains will crumble and the casualties will be the stuff of legends.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit at the end of this chapter before I go to bed. I was feeling a touch peckish and Bedelia was looking particularly appetising.

“Tell me, James, what brings you to this sleepy little suburbia?” Hannibal enquired as he removed the food he had prepped for their first course from his fridge.

“I’ve traveled a lot,” said Will, as he watched the man take hold of a slicer to finish the apples.

“Business? Pleasure? Soul searching perhaps?" enquired Hannibal.

“I found something, not so long ago, but then it was taken from me,” said Will.

Hannibal spooned plump, green olives onto the plates. “Oh?”

Will watched the slender, deadly hands as they deftly arrange the various elements on the plate. Every move executed, every gesture made, every single word shared that Hannibal chose to spend on the world had meaning. Food for Hannibal spoke as clearly as any message he might consider conveying with words.

Apples. Sin. Olives. Peace.

“But I’ve found it again. I arrived here and it felt… felt like… coming home.”

Hannibal slanted his eyes towards Will without pausing in his preparations. “Home is important, James. And I can tell you now, that you will always be welcome in mine and there will always be a place for you at my table.” 

Hannibal wiped his hands on a towel as Will spoke. “You barely know me. I barely know me…” Will said, as Hannibal passed him two of the plates.

“Oh but I do,” he replied, as he picked up the other plates. “Kindred.”

* * *

Will put on his best smile as he entered the dining room. “Apologies we kept you waiting, ladies, but all good things…,” he halted his footsteps as he took in the sight of both women slumped forward in their chairs, heads resting on the table. Hannibal was only a few steps behind.

“Ah. Excellent,” said Hannibal, brushing past Will to prop Bedelia back upright in her chair. “The main course has finally come to fruition.” He placed the plates on the table before adjusting Bedelia’s position and continued. “I have been seasoning and marinading the less-than-tasteful Dr DuMaurier since our reunion. I have been looking forward to this particular indulgence for some time now. Fortunately, I am a patient man.”

“But Mrs Clarfore… She has been nothing but kind and generous…”

“Oh I agree. The lady is a lady in the truest sense of the word,” said Hannibal as he gripped her shoulders to prop her back as well. “You will take her home and leave an appropriately phrased note. She will wake up slightly worse for wear with no knowledge of this evening other than what we shall tell her was a wonderful time spent in excellent company.”

He gathered her in his arms, while a slightly bewildered Will looked on. “Come. I will put her in her car. You will take her home and return in a cab.” They made their way outside and Will opened the passenger door to allow Hannibal to place her there.

He stood up as Will closed the door. Stepping close, he gently took him by the chin, placing a thumb and forefinger there before running his palm up his cheek and into his hair. Will was powerless under his touch. He removed his glasses, folded them and placed them in Will’s jacket pocket before resuming his finger touch trace of Will’s features, as though reminding himself of the contours that shaped his perfect form, behind which resided his most beautiful mind. For his part, Will was reminded how good, how free, how complete his being when it was pulled into the orbit of Hannibal’s world.

“In the meantime,” Hannibal whispered over his lips, “I shall prepare our main course.” The kiss that followed the words was soft, tender and twisted in his gut like the knife Hannibal had once used to leave his indelible mark.

Hannibal released him and headed back up the steps towards the entrance. He stopped halfway and turned to Will with a smile.

“Welcome home. Will.”

* * *

“I gave you everything. All of myself. My love, my loyalty…”

“On the contrary, Bedelia. You held back a considerable amount of yourself,” said Hannibal, as he tightened the belt around her upper thigh. “But I found your inscrutability quite intriguing. A significant factor in keeping you by my side all this time. But now—“

“Now your precious boy has returned,” she sighed. “After all you have done to each other, still, you crave him, like Gods crave worship.” She clenched her fists, pushing her nails into her palms, but she could feel nothing.

“I am not God, Bedelia, though I do enjoy defying him. He can watch as I honour that which he has created in his own image in the manner in which he created me.” He reached for the machete, drew it towards his other hand, imagined it slice the random molecules hanging in the air between them.

“That must leave for a conflicted deity. Honour through butchery…”

“Keeps him - or her - on their toes I like to think,” as he sliced through the muscle in her thigh.

“And when you become bored with your little lamb? Will you serve him up to your God as well?”

A voice from the door to the basement cut through the darkness while a body followed towards the light cast from the lamp above the steel table on which Bedelia lay stretched out. “He has made several attempts in that regard, Bedelia. Evidently, God and the Devil have reached a mutually beneficial agreement that ensures I remain by Hannibal’s side for our foreseeable futures.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, with a smile. “Won’t you join us?”

“You started without me, Hannibal,” a teasing chide to his tone of voice.

“I thought I would prep the cut, but we could cook it together.”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil the meat.”

“Under my supervision, you will be fine. As will the meat,” Hannibal said, turning back to the task at hand.

“It seems I tempted more than fate when I told you you may make a meal of me yet,” whispered Bedelia softly.

“And here we are. Reciprocity. You kept us apart, Bedelia, to save yourself. Now, you bring us together, at your last supper. Your sacrifice, on the night of our reunion, is truly appreciated. Isn’t it, Will?”

“I can only hope you choke on my offering,” she said, before slipping into unconsciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

“You won’t escape him,” Bedelia said, looking up at Will from her warm steel bed.

“What makes you think I want to?” he replied. “And have you considered perhaps that he won’t escape me?”

Bedelia raised her head and smiled through her pain-free haze. “I am truly glad you found each other again. You will yet be the death of each other. Mutually-assured destruction.”

“An incredibly optimistic outlook on your part,” he said, looking down the length of her body to the empty space once occupied by her leg.

“And when there is no life left to pander to your indulgences, what then?” she asked. “Inevitably, you will turn towards - and on - each other.”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I’m counting on it.”

“I’ll admit you both seem to possess a knack for resurrection, but even the most skilled predator only has nine lives,” she breathed.

Will smiled. “I’ve learned much about myself and about Hannibal during our time together - and apart. The wounds inflicted upon him in this life barely scratch the surface. You cannot kill what does not fully exist in this world. He moves between worlds. Not alive, not dead, but something else entirely.”

“A quantum predator?” Bedelia whispered.

“As good an assignment as any,” said Will nodding. “The cat in the box lying concealed from this world while licking its wounds in preparation for the next round of playtime when he makes his reappearance.”

“So how do you kill such a creature?”

“You don’t. You can’t,” Will said. “But you can help him achieve another state.”

“Love?” Bedelia laughed softly. “Such a predator is incapable of love. When it reaches for you, licking its lips, it is not to seduce, merely to quicken the pulse of its prey so the blood flows warm and quick across waiting lips.”

“You think I cannot change him, but I already have. Every time our paths converge, another piece of ourselves becomes a piece of each other.”

Bedelia paused then to absorb his words. “I suppose it is futile to argue with inevitability. I could never truly know him, as you do.” She took a calm breath and closed her eyes. “I’m ready.”

Will nodded and reached out to touch her brow. “The world may not miss you, Bedelia, but I know a part of Hannibal will.”

“All good things…”

Will turned and retreated into the darkness. Bedelia, left awaiting her unmaker. There was some solace to be had in the fact that her end would be quick. Hannibal would consider it nothing short of rude otherwise.

 


	14. Chapter 14

“How long are you planning on staying, Will?”

“Indefinitely. Pending your approval of course, Hannibal.”

They had taken their well established and mutually understood positions opposite each other at the dinner table, though perhaps, there was a little more reverence felt in this trinity’s reunion.

Hannibal allowed himself a small smile as he inhaled the aroma of the Chianti he had selected to accompany Bedelia.

“Indefinitely is a long time, Will.”

“I don’t think of our time together - as sporadic and unpredictable as you seem so determined to make it Hannibal - as a finite thing,” he replied, without any hint of accusation in his voice. “More fluid, tempered by the ebb and flow of our evolution is a much more fitting description. Outside the confines of man-made restrictions that I have come to enjoy occupying, though admittedly, it has been lonely at times…”

“Will. Do you know why we parted company?”

“Yes. As do you.”

“Indulge me.”

Will placed a piece of meat in his mouth and took his time devouring it. He wiped the napkin across his lips, keeping his eyes trained on Hannibal before replying.

“You feared me, or rather, feared my effect on you. You became my greatest strength, while I, proved your greatest weakness. I don’t blame you for wanting to rid yourself of me. I have no choice but to forgive you all your indiscretions, knowing and understanding you as wholly as I do. Weakness in any shape or form is like a cancer to you. It deserves to be cut out and cast aside.”

Hannibal swallowed. The sweetness lingered on his palate as the meat slipped down his throat. Passions lost, passions gained. “It is true. You awoke desires in me of which I thought myself incapable.”

Hannibal fell silent, wanting to permit the space to evoke more thoughts on the situation from his empath. He was not disappointed. “We are all the ephemeral forms of a consciousness greater than ourselves. The mind of every human being is instantaneously connected to each other as “a part of every mind existing in space and time.”

“Not all…,” began Hannibal.

“No. Not all,” said Will. He stood and picked up his wine glass, the liquid coolness serving to calm the warmth of their meal, searing Will’s thoughts, tempering the emotion flowing from Hannibal towards him. “Were one to apply this concept of the laws of attraction to you and I, the analysis is simple. I am connected. Completely bound to that consciousness. It is painful, all-consuming and for a long time, completely overwhelming in its consumption of my mind.”

Will continued, as he stood gazing out the window leading to the patio. “You, on the other end of the spectrum, Hannibal, are completely disconnected. I provided you a missing link to the world. You, provided me an escape into peaceful oblivion.”

“I had not considered an escape into my mind would be thought of as peaceful,” Hannibal countered.

“Knowing the minds I have known, Hannibal, yours is a veritable sea of tranquility. It took some time to appreciate that reality, but it is undeniable to me now.”

He looked over his shoulder. Hannibal was not meeting his gaze, his eyes instead given over for the moment to The Meeting on the Turret Stairs, looming over them and their conversation. “Do you think it is possible for us to overcome your fears, as I have strived to overcome my inhibitions? You set me free, Hannibal. I owe you a debt.”

Hannibal stood then and joined him. He turned towards Will. “Freedom can be over-rated. If not properly managed.”

“Then manage me…”

* * *

“Can you manage?” asked Will.

“Of course,” Amy replied. “I had an excellent teacher. And mentor.”

She tied the lure on the end of the line while Will watched. “Good.”

“Why are we fishing for our own ingredients? You have heard about these things called food markets, haven’t you?” she enquired, a touch of humour poking through the sarcasm.

They stood side by side in a shallow part of the stream. “Hush,” he said. “You’re scaring the fish.”

They drew their rods back over their heads in unison. “So,” she said casually. “You found him.”

 _I found him. “_ Yes.” The line skimmed the glittering surface.

“Though the thing to keep foremost in your mind about Hannibal, is that he doesn’t  _get_  found. He allows himself to  _be_  found. Draws you to him like a fish to a lure,” Will replied, sinking deeper into the rhythm of their aligned movements.

She nodded. They had had many conversations about his former psychiatrist. “You had dinner together?”

“We shared a meal,” he replied.

“And now you want to return the favour?”

“Seems rude not to,” Will said, with a hint of a smile.

“In my restaurant,” she sighed. 

“In  _our_ restaurant, young lady,” he quipped back playfully. “Though I concede the significant role your father’s life insurance policy played in its procurement.”

“Damn straight you concede.” She pouted. “As I concede that your empathy for your food has helped establish quite the reputation.”

“Damn straight,” he replied, in mock seriousness.

“Does he know about the restaurant?” Amy asked with a tilt of her head, brown locks from beneath her hat caught in the gentle breeze.

Will shook his head, as he watches the line arch over their heads. “No. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Who knows? Maybe he’ll see the potential for expansion and invest…,” she said absently, herself absorbed in the motion of the rod as it cast the line, searching for the first nibble between tender jaws.

Will smiled at her. Hannibal’s idea of expansion in the culinary arts might lead to a noticeable cull in the population of the surrounding area, he thought to himself.

He cast his mind back to their reunion dinner, sharing an old friend as the guest of honour. The lull of the stream had transformed into the soothing sound of Hannibal’s voice…

_“I can manage you. If that is what you really want, Will.” Hannibal moved his hand to Will’s face._

_“It’s what I want. We can’t escape each other. Time to stop trying,” whispered Will, moving himself closer to Hannibal, reaching up to wrap a warm hand around the nape of his neck._

_“And If I let you, Hannibal, you’ll stop running? Stop running from me?”_

_Hannibal smiled against Will’s lips. “I do not run, Will, I lead. I wonder. When I lead us to the gates of Hell, will you follow then?”_

_Will closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling of being so close again. “Hell cannot contain you, Hannibal. There are no walls that can keep you in. Or out…”_

_“All that we have endured together, for you to finally understand that fact,” Hannibal said, undoing the buttons of Will’s shirt, eyes following his fingers path down his chest to grip his waist and pull their bodies together. “Tell me, Will. Was it worth it?”_

_Will opened his eyes before leaning into Hannibal’s kiss. “Let’s find out, shall we?”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “We are all the ephemeral forms of a consciousness greater than ourselves. The mind of every human being is instantaneously connected to each other as “a part of every mind existing in space and time.”
> 
> This is a direct quote from the mind of physician Robert Lanza, an American medical doctor, scientist, Chief Scientific Officer of Ocata Therapeutics.


	15. Chapter 15

To wake with the dawn was just one of the many respectful gestures bestowed by Hannibal Lecter on the life he had come to treasure. Regardless of the time of year, dawn was that moment between worlds that Hannibal had come to appreciate most. In that moment, everything became completely transparent; neither blinded by the unforgiving light of day, nor shrouded in blackness of night. That moment was undefinable in its essence. Dawn and Hannibal understood each other very well.

It had been a restful night, particularly given that he had not gone to bed alone. He woke slowly and calmly, inhaling the cool air that pushed through the bedroom curtains, rippling through air permeated with the aroma of heated and all-too-delayed passions. Morning afters were a speciality of Hannibal’s. The few who had shared his bed rarely ended up at - or on for that matter - his table. A light breakfast combined with a courteous and respectful parting were always par the course. The last thing he needed was to be dealing with lovers scorned. It was a different kind of feast that he sought in such circumstances.

But now, rather than being sought out, his feast had come to his door.

_He found me._

Fate really didn’t know when to take a hint, thought Hannibal, as he willed himself from the edges of slumber. As awareness trickled into his consciousness, though he had not yet turned to survey his bedfellow, he was distinctly aware of the lack of a warm body next to his own. 

Hmmm. A new experience, he thought to himself, never before having taken a body to bed only to wake up alone. He took a breath and prepared himself for the pang he had felt only once before, when Will had so blatantly betrayed his trust. He had taken his pound of flesh then. He had no qualms about taking it again.

He rolled over to face the empty space, his gaze coming to rest on the impression on the pillow where Will had rested his head only hours before. He lifted his head when his eyes caught sight of the envelope occupying the space Will’s skewed curls should now be gracing. He moved his body closer, breathing in the lingering scent from the pillow. He found it oddly… calming.

He reached for the envelope and opened it, removing the plain white card within.

_Mr Will Graham_

_Respectfully requests the presence of_

_Dr Hannibal Lecter_

_For dinner at 7.30pm this evening at Chateau Leda_

Hannibal rose from the bed and walked to his window, still looking at the card. He stood and basked in the dawn, as the sun pushed its way past the yielding horizon. He recalled a similar invitation sent to Jack Crawford in another life. He smiled. The springing of that trap had left a trail of blood and destruction in his wake that he was forced to abandon. Will Graham had been the eye of that particular storm. Will had come a long way from the shy and stuttering empath he had once known. He wondered how long they could maintain their macabre dance. The lines blurring again as to who was leading and who was following. Enemies determined to fool themselves and each other that an alliance was possible? To be allies in a world in which only they truly understood each other?

Hannibal slipped the invitation back into its envelope. There were many possible scenarios and as always, Hannibal would be prepared in mind and body to deal with whatever one presented itself. 

Hannibal would always be prepared.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no apologies, but be warned, there will be a happy ending. For an unhappy ending, Empathy for the Devil sufficiently provides. :)

Hannibal arrived at his destination ten minutes before the appointed time to find the restaurant in darkness and a sign on the door that stated it was “temporarily closed for refurbishment.” He hesitated for a moment, debating his next course of action, when he caught a movement in the darkness behind the glass door and the sound of a lock being unbolted.

“Welcome to Chateau Leda, Hannibal,” said the man before him. Will stood framed in the entrance, a demure but mischievous look on his clean-shaven face. Hannibal was entranced. He looked positively delectable in his elegance, clean-shaven with just a hint of unruliness to his curls and new glasses framing heated blue eyes. Not that Hannibal betrayed any such thoughts by his expression.

“Will,” he replied, as he took the three steps that rose to meet the door. “I was about to hunt you down and demand my pound of flesh for such a display of rudeness when I thought you had stood me up.”

Will moved aside to permit Hannibal access. “As though I would ever forget your 24-hour cancellation policy, Hannibal,” he countered with a smile. “Though where the pound of flesh is concerned, all you have to do is ask…”

“Some memories have returned then?” Hannibal asked as Will closed the door.

“The occasional jolt in the present has enabled me to regain some of my past,” he replied, as he turned to face him after locking the door again. “Though where you end and I begin still eludes me.” Will moved towards him and into his personal space. “I sometimes find myself pulling at the thread of a memory that I think is my own, but only unravels to reveal you.”

Will brushed past him without touching him. “Come. Join me in the kitchen.”

Hannibal clicked. “The restaurant is yours,” he stated as he moved to follow Will heading towards the back of the room. 

“I have a partner,” Will replied. He smiled as he felt the brief wave of jealousy emanating from the man behind him. Will allowed himself a smile as Hannibal couldn’t see him. Still there then, he thought to himself, thinking there can be nothing between us in your greed to have me all to yourself.

“A business partner,” clarified Will over his shoulder, not pausing in his movements.

“Ah I see,” said Hannibal. Will was fairly sure he didn’t so casually continued. “Amongst those broken memories, I recalled a beautiful woman who threw me from a train.”

Hannibal couldn’t resist a little quirk to his mouth as he recalled that particular conversation in the Uffizi Gallery. “Chiyoh.”

“Chiyoh,” Will said. “Much like you as I recalled. Deadly, and all but irresistible in her allure.”“Hardly surprising,” he continued, “given she was moulded by you.”

“Much like you then,” replied Hannibal.

“Much like me indeed,” said Will, as he reached to switch on the lights in the kitchen.

He moved to the steel table and laid a chopping board on its surface. “So, I decided why not mould my own version? The girl whom I saved and in turn, saved me.”

Hannibal didn’t have to think long to recall the young girl and a dog called George. “Amy…”

“Correct,” he replied. “I saw the possibility for you and I, but evidently, you weren’t ready.” He sighed. “And, I needed someone, to retain and better understand this... new version of humanity you had created,” Will said, running his hands down his sides to emphasis his point and the slight jarring emotion of abandonment he was doing his best to contain. 

Hannibal watched his face, his gestures. He found he really could not regret leaving him, nor resent the solace he had found in the girl, as he himself had found in Chiyoh, if this beautiful thing before him was the result of their eight months apart.

Grabbing and donning an apron, Will had since begun prepping the vegetables for their meal. “Care to assist?” he enquired, looking up at Hannibal.

Hannibal moved around the table towards him. “I may have to,” he replied, “you are positively butchering that artichoke.”

Pushing thoughts about all else to the back of his mind, Hannibal stood behind Will, pressing his own chest gently into his back. “Have you noticed that everything about the artichoke suggests that it doesn't want to be eaten?” he whispered against the curve of Will’s ear while running his hands up his forearms and wrapping a firm, warm hand around the one in which Will held the knife.

He moved his lips down to the side of Will’s neck. “But the tender heart beneath is assuredly worth the effort taken to reach it,” he said against the smooth nape, allowing himself the luxury of losing himself in Will’s scent, wondering how many more nights they would need to spend together before his own permeated that of his resurrected empath.

Will, too, was losing himself in the moment, and rapidly losing his appetite. For food anyway. His eyes closed as he allowed Hannibal’s assault of his goose-fleshed skin. “And what, if after all that effort, one discovers the heart spoiled?” he asked.

“Spoiling can only occur after the armour is removed, and only then, if one doesn’t know how to treat such a rare and beautiful thing,” Hannibal continued, as he gripped Will’s waist to turn him from his task.

“We spoiled each other…,” Will said softly, looking at him now, his expression open and unguarded.

Hannibal moved one hand from Will’s waist to cup his cheek. “We did,” he said plainly. “And it was not without consequences.” He kissed Will then, lightly, not yet allowing the move of lips to deepen too much. “But that first night I saw you when you re-entered my life, I recognised a new heart had blossomed, stripped of its armour, pulsing in its vibrance.” His hand moved softly through his curls. “My heart still needs to heal, but now, in your light and under your hands, I think it can. Are you prepared to help unspoil my heart, Will?”

Will remained silent but his eyes told Hannibal all he needed to hear. The kiss returned was fervent and unabashed in its relentlessness. Both men lost to each other.

Dinner, apparently, would have to be rescheduled.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Final Act? It can be I suppose but damn, I'd happily allow my brain to suffocate in these two for as long as it can hold its breath. :)

“I was wrong you know,” said Hannibal, slightly breathlessly, as he moved his open mouth down Will’s chest.

Will’s laugh was short but incredulous. Hannibal looked up with a mock frown on his face, his head tilted. “You find that amusing?”

“Hannibal Lecter admitting he was wrong? If I didn’t know better, I’d say Hell just froze over.”

“Hmmm. Quite,” he said softly, taking the tender flesh beneath Will’s ribs between his teeth and biting just a little harder than necessary.

“Ow! Dammit, Hannibal!” Will yelped with unconvincing anger. “Wrong about what exactly?”

“When I allowed Bedelia to plant the idea in my mind that I would need to eat you.”

Will gripped his shoulders, stopping Hannibal in the downward journey along his body. “Circular-sawing the top of my head was Bedelia’s idea?”

Hannibal looked up, smiling. “Yes. So should you harbour any misgivings about returning the favour…”

“Well I certainly don’t now,” Will said as his breath caught from Hannibal’s hand moving up his inner thigh. Will rolled onto his stomach, teasingly looking over his shoulder.

Hannibal pressed the entire length of his lean, naked form down on Will. “I consider, had I been successful, all the pleasurable occasions I would have missed devouring you over and over again.”

“If you’re trying to seduce me, Dr Lecter, it’s working.”

“I wasn’t aware I was trying anything.”

“Again,” said Will, “master of the understatement. That’s one quality that time and fortune hasn’t changed in you, Hannibal.” He took in the sight of the beautiful predator before him as he rose from the bed, stretching all lithe and grace.

“Do you accept now, our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift?” Will asked with a teasing tone of innocence. Hannibal smiled at the quote of Dante’s as he pulled on his robe while leaning down to kiss Will again.

“Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, and do so with all your heart.”

Will, still lying on his stomach, skin glistening from the exertions of sweat-soaked bodies, waved his hand dismissively. “Not even going to attempt and take you on in a battle of quotations.”

“You are wise beyond your years, Mr Graham.” He continued as he tied his robe. “As long as you accept and remain deeply aware of the impermanence of the world.” 

He paused at the bedroom door to look back. “Impermanent or not however, do not think for a moment I’ve forgotten you owe me dinner.”

Will raised his head and rested it on his hand. “In that case,” he said, “it’s either time for me to take you fishing, or you…” the gleam in his eye that of a predator gazing longingly at his next meal. 

“…To take me hunting.”

 

END?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I'm adding another arc to the story. Bite me please. I know Hannibal would.

“Ladies, gentlemen, distinguished guests. If you would indulge me for a moment…” The conversations around the tables in the room became softly subdued. “I hope you will join me in celebrating and acknowledging the talent behind tonights menu and the offerings therein, Amy Raddison…”

Amy, fully kitted in her chef’s whites, strolled with quiet confidence to the centre of the room to stand next to Will, who only paused for a heartbeat to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, before stepping backwards to resume his position at the table with Hannibal while joining in the applause. It was the first opportunity Hannibal had, to not only observe and study the girl in her natural environment but to see her at all. Will had kept a fine handle on the matter in the 10 days since resuming their relationship, wanting to take some time to allow them both to refamiliarise themselves with these incarnations. He watched as she modestly basked in the warm applause of the guests. Approval was not easily won from Hannibal. Only time would tell if she was truly worthy of the affections of Will Graham and by extension, he himself. Murmurs of “so young…” “so very talented…” rippled through the patrons of Chateau Leda. The re-opening of the once most famous eatery in the state had been a huge success, and the critics were left with no complaints, although Will was certain at least one of them would find something to chastise. He looked across to Hannibal who was smiling at the young girl, as she accepted the praise with small bows before retreating back to her kingdom in the kitchen. 

The guests resumed their seats while coffees and small pastries were served.

“You must be very proud of your protégé, James,” Hannibal said. 

Will gave an affectionate smile in response. “I am, Henrik, though admittedly the talent is inherently hers. He picked up his coffee and looked at Hannibal over the rim of the delicate cup. “You approve then? Of Amy?”

Hannibal sipped the last of his dessert wine before responding, not returning his gaze. “Time will tell.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. He was still trying to figure out the nuances of the relationship in this new format. Dull, was one word that could certainly never be used to describe it, nor would ever be used to describe it. For as long as it lasts…

Will was about to retort when Hannibal looked over his shoulder and graciously stood. “Judith. How wonderful that you could make it,” he said.

The woman reached out and placed a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder but didn’t linger, Hannibal was pleased to see. Will stood then to greet the woman.

“Henrik, James. As if I could possibly turn down the finest invitation in town, second only to the same when asked to share your table, of course,” she replied, with a gracious nod in Hannibal’s direction.

Hannibal couldn’t help but smile in return. The woman was a rare treat. Such a shame his code of conduct demanded he would never get to bring her to his table in his favoured set of circumstances. Of course, he hadn’t failed to notice the man lingering directly behind her. His scent was unmistakeable, despite Judith’s perfume, which fortunately, remained ever the correct side of tasteful. The man wasn’t prey, he was predator. Hannibal could immediately sense that fact was not lost on Will either.

“Judith?” he said softly, leaning seductively, his lips close but not touching her ear. “won’t you introduce us?”

“Oh of course! How terrible of me. Henrik Rufus, James Hunter. It’s my pleasure to introduce Simone Nascosto,” she said, a smile and a blush accompanying her words and the fond gaze she lavished on him.

“Signore Nascosto,” said Hannibal, extending his hand. “An unusual name.”

“Please. Call me Simone,” he said, the firm grip lingering for just a beat longer than necessary. “Only if you call me Henrik then,” Hannibal replied.

Will watched the exchange. Will could see the men before him. Their truths as clear to him as the water flowing down his favourite stream in his mind palace. Will could see everything…

A small ripple of soft applause rose again as Amy made another appearance, now out of uniform, heading towards their table, a spring in her step and a wide, beaming smile. Will turned into her embrace. This was something, Hannibal realised, to which he would have to become accustomed. Or not. Time would tell. 

It was in that moment, Hannibal noticed something else. The scent of their new acquaintance had altered, such a small change Hannibal barely noticed, nor would he have had the man not being standing so close.

Will and Judith were wrapped up in the aura of her successful introduction to the culinary arts, congratulating her profusely. The distraction was long enough for Will not to see what Hannibal had seen, the look that had passed across his features.

Judith’s companion was looking at Amy and smiling. But it was not a smile of warmth or affection.

Not only was Judith Clarfore attracted to psychopaths, she was attracted to killers with a particular taste in prey. 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little moment of domestic calm and fun for our deadly pair before the veritable storm.

Will’s sleep pattern had never been more sound, more even, nor more complete in its resulting restfulness. He awoke quiet and calm, surrounded by the aura and scent of arguably the deadliest man alive.  _Fate, I am thy mistress_ , he thought to himself, before opening his eyes to look at his bedfellow. Hannibal, of course, was awake already, a soft, knowing expression on his still sleepy features.  _He could murder me in my sleep and I’d never know,_ thought Will to himself,  _and I’d likely haunt him to the end of time, except he’d probably enjoy the fact that we couldn’t escape each other even in death…_

“Good morning, Will.”

“Hannibal.”

“You slept well.”

“Oh I did, did I?”

He circled an arm around Will’s waist to draw him closer. “Yes. Dreamless. Much like myself when all is perfect with the world.”

“And you and I are perfect, are we?” Will asked, accepting the physical invitation to crowd Hannibal’s personal space.

“No. You are perfect…,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Will before he could respond.

He rose from the bed minutes later, satisfied he had left the empath in an appropriate amount of disarray.

“Shall I make coffee?”

“If that is all that is on offer, then yes,” replied Will, without a hint of frustration.

Hannibal smiled appreciatively. Less than two weeks together and Will’s mirroring of him was becoming more finely attuned with every motion, every gesture shared and expressed. It made the crumbling of the walls beneath his hands, his lips and his mind all the more satisfying to Hannibal.

“It shall be ready in ten minutes,” said Hannibal with a nod, not bothering to don his robe as he strolled to his kitchen, hearing the grunt and the flop back on the bed as he exited the bedroom.

It wasn’t long before Will joined him, wearing a pair of Hannibal’s boxers. Hannibal had wisely donned an apron before beginning preparing their morning meal. He eyed Will as he placed cups on saucers, while the coffee simmered hot and dark next to him.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to borrow my underwear.”

“Of course you don’t,” came the nonchalant response. “I didn’t ask your permission.”

“Somewhat rude, don’t you think, Mr Graham?”

Will had grabbed a tumbler and was pouring himself a glass of cold water, his back to Hannibal. “Well, you stop invading my mind, and I won’t poke around in your underwear drawer.”

Hannibal folded his arms as Will turned to face him, sipping from the glass. In counterpoint to the cool slide of water down his throat, knowing Hannibal was watching, the temperature of the coffee pot began to peak.

“Are you comparing my traversing round your mind to your invasion of my undergarments?” Hannibal deadpanned.

Will lost it then, unable to contain the spluttering laughter as it erupted from the lips still around the rim of his glass. Hannibal took advantage of the momentary loss of composure to stride up to him and hoist him by his hips onto the sink behind. 

All meals should begin with a Will Graham appetiser, thought Hannibal absently, lost to the emotional feedback loop emanating from Will. Hannibal broke the kiss before its further searing escalation, his own disarray now apparent.

“Quid pro quo, Dr Lecter,” said Will, with a genuine smile.

He hopped off the edge of the sink and walked calmly to the coffee pot, pouring them both a cup and turning to hand one to Hannibal who had joined him there. Regaining composure came as quickly and easily to Hannibal as thunder following lightning, Will thought to himself in silent admiration, blowing on the hot liquid surface to cool it before taking a sip. 

Hannibal turned his back to Will, Will doing his best to train his gaze elsewhere, while Hannibal continued preparing breakfast.

“We have not yet broached the subject with which I know we both have been preoccupied, albeit in the back of our minds.”

Will didn’t need to ask. “Simone Nascosto.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal replied as he whisked some eggs.

“He is dangerous,” said Will, his eyes darkening.

 _More than you yet realise,_  thought Hannibal, though did not give voice to that thought.

“Do you think he sensed the same?” asked Will, still new to the reality of Hannibal’s world by comparison to Hannibal himself. The mind of a psychopath is easy to understand when a version of the same exists in your own head, but the physical expression of those urges came only with discipline and training.

“No. Like you, in these matters he is young and inexperienced, a fledgling killer.” The butter sizzled, solid oozing to liquid in mere seconds.

Will was sipping his coffee thoughtfully. “What’s to be done? Maintain the status quo?”

Hannibal poured the eggs into the waiting pan, letting the heat work its magic, the transformation from something inedible to delicious quick and barely aided.

He turned to Will and dished their meal onto waiting plates. “I think in this instance I am required to do what I do best and get to know this new element in the life of our mutual acquaintance? Ensure we approve of Judith’s choice?”

Will shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I assume you know you are doing it, but already you make him sound like an ingredient in your recipe for life.” 

Hannibal raised his egg-filled fork to his lips before replying. “So you concur. An intimate dinner might be in order?”


	20. Chapter 20

*RING RING*

Will pulled out his cellphone to be met with Amy’s number on the display.

*RING—*

“Hello there, Maestro. What’s up?”

“Hello Mr Turner? It’s not Amy, it’s her sous chef, Phillip?” 

Will frowned. “Where’s Amy?”

“I thought you might know. She didn’t turn up for work this evening and on getting no reply from her phone, I went to her apartment.” He paused.

“And?” asked Will trying to keep his impatience in check.

“Well, I stood outside and tried calling again. That’s when I heard the phone. It was lying hidden in the bushes next to the entrance of her building.”

Will felt the cold clench around his heart like a vice. “There’s no sign of her, Mr Turner. I’m worried something bad has happened.”

Will flipped his internal switch to survival mode. “Have you called the police yet, Phillip?”

“No, Sir.”

“Don’t.”

A pause. “Sir?”

“I want you to trust that I know what I’m doing, Phillip. Trust that I know Amy better than anyone.” He feigned strong, confident control in his voice.

“OK.”

“And Phillip? Thank you. Amy is fortunate to have you as a friend as well as colleague.”

“Thanks, Mr Turner. Please let me know she’s safe when you do?”

“Of course.”

Will cut the call and looked out the window of his study. He no longer had to open the door of his mind to let the demons in. They had become constant companions. Hannibal had made sure of that.

Hannibal… _Time will tell…_

Will considered the possibility that Hannibal had seen fit to dispose of Amy, recalling the many people to whom he had been close and vice versa, while Hannibal tried to steer Will and capture him in his orbit and his alone. It would be foolish of Will to ignore that possibility given his modus operandus where Will was concerned. It was something Will no longer resented. Living without each other had never really been an option. Resistance to the inevitable, futile. 

They still had separate accommodations though had discussed the prospect of sharing their personal space. They also hadn’t spent the last two nights together, Hannibal assisting Judith with her latest exhibition. Will closed his eyes and replayed their interaction on the two occasions Hannibal and Amy had met under his supervision. All of Hannibal now lay before him, naked and vulnerable. That was not to say a predator such as he was incapable of evolving, but Will had come to trust his own instincts on a much more primal level since their killing of the Red Dragon and his subsequent resurrection from the churning bowels of the Atlantic. He and Hannibal had now been cast from the same mould. Hannibal’s design. Will chose to embrace rather than be consumed by it. If nothing else, company had certainly tempered Hannibal’s enthusiasm and taste for long pig. In his mind, he could not recall within the details any moment to suggest Hannibal was considering choosing Amy’s fate for her, like the God in whose image he cast himself. And Will had paid very close attention.

Twilight splashed red across the horizon. Night was approaching and the predators would begin to roam. Will grabbed his coat and headed for the door. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone with the intention of calling Hannibal. As though their thoughts were in sync, Will felt the muffled ringtone vibrate in his trouser pocket. He instinctively knew it was him.

“I require your assistance, James. Can you come to Judith’s gallery? Immediately?”

“Hannibal,” he began, unable to tamp down the hint of panic in his voice, even though he knew panic was useless. He was empathising with Amy’s fear, lending thought in his overactive imagination to the myriad of dangers in which she might now be while he, in this current moment, flailed about in his mind, helplessly impotent to save her.

“James.” Will heard the firm, decisive tone. “I know.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

**_17 hours previously_ **

Amy rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. She raised her head to look out the window of the office situated at the back of the restaurant. The depth of the hour was evidenced by the sliver of moon solid above, the stars all but drowned into silence by the lights from the city. It was close to 1am. Amy had been so absorbed in designing the new season’s menu she hadn’t noticed the hours slip quietly by. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, allowing random thoughts to distract her and give her mind a moment to relax from its concentrated state. Thoughts of the other darknesses that now occupied her life ambled in, the man whom she saved and the other whom he loved. She smiled. Will couldn’t quite see just how far down the rabbit hole he had fallen yet, as blind to his own truths as he was blinded by the truths of everyone to whom he opened his emotional floodgates.

_“I don’t understand why you would want to find him. How you can forgive him. He left you for dead.”_

_“It’s who we are.”_

And that had been explanation enough. 

It had taken her a long time to understand Will Graham and she still wasn’t sure she truly did. Elements of him would skip and duck behind other thoughts, just out of reach. He had mentioned Abigail a few times, told her how much she reminded him of her but didn’t elaborate any further. She got the sense that she herself was some kind of contrition. She didn’t pursue or prod for more. All in good time.

One thing she did know, despite her relative youth, was that his reasoning to find Hannibal Lecter went beyond the drive to protect the world from his predilections. It wasn’t so much that Will was the light and Hannibal was the dark, one chasing the other in a perpetual circle of life, more that one was dark matter and the other anti-matter. Their attraction was inexorable, beautiful. She allowed herself a girly smile at how utterly romantic the whole thing was. Twisted, but romantic nonetheless, she thought as she tidied up her paperwork. Someday maybe, she thought with a sigh. At least I have youth on my side, she considered.

She pushed herself away from the desk and allowed herself a well-earned stretch. Time to call it a night. An early start tomorrow demanded at least a few hours sleep. She grabbed her bag and locked the office door behind her. 

The streets were quiet in this part of town - at this time of the week - populated mainly by restaurants, bars and theatres, most now closed for the night. She folded her tired body into the driver’s seat of her car, started the engine and pulled out of the space into the quiet road. She was too absorbed in the welcome thought of a warm bed and plumped up pillows to notice the car that pulled out behind her a few seconds later. 

**_2 hours previously_ **

“You are a godsend, Henrik.” 

Hannibal flashed Judith a small, polite smile. He did, quite frequently he found, enjoy her choice of words.

“It is such a joy to have someone with your eye assist in the layout of the exhibition.” Her look was verging on the edge of awe. Hannibal found he didn’t mind at all.

“Your sister was most helpful in that regard as well so I am very grateful that you could find the time to assist in her absence. It is _such_ a shame she decided to leave the city. I must admit I was growing quite fond of her.”

“Alas, some women lack your practicalities when it comes to relationships. I fear my sister was always prone to romantic whimsies. I protected her for as long as I could, but we do what we were born to do and, much like Juliet Capulet, her fate was sealed.”

“Hmmm,” she purred, as they strolled amongst the artwork, enjoying the fruits of their labour.

Hannibal gave a cursory glance at his watch. It was past 11pm. While he and Will had agreed not to meet this evening, he found himself wondering if he would very much mind the company. It had been a long day even by Hannibal’s standards.

“Well, Judith, I think it is time we part company. For now,” he said, with a small, polite bow.

She clapped her hands before bringing them to her mouth as though remembering something. “Oh Henrik! I almost completely forgot to show you…”

He raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Come,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes.

She continued speaking as they headed to a side room in the gallery. She placed her hand on the doorknob before turning to him. “Now. Close your eyes.” Hannibal felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, a feeling he had never distrusted before and was not about to start ignoring now.

He gave her his most casual “person suit” smile. “Would you mind terribly if I didn’t? I fear missing out on the pleasured expression that will grace your features when you reveal to me whatever… surprise, awaits us behind that door.”

She laughed then, sounding entirely genuine. “Oh Henrik! Very well.”

She swung open the door. 

While his heartbeat remained steady, never wavering, grounded in the gravity of the memories nestled in his memory palace, his pupils dilated to drink in the sight before him.

On the wall opposite hung two large canvas, a space to the right empty, evidently awaiting one more piece to fill it. They were completely red. The vibrancy of the colour was overwhelming. The subtlety of the different hues of colour was almost imperceptible and likely would be to most people who were not in possession of eyes that had witnessed the events which had shaped a life like that of Hannibal Lecter.

He let out a slow breath and inhaled. The smell of blood pouring from the canvas before him filled his senses. It was intoxicating…

Judith had been watching him closely. He had almost forgotten she was in the room. Her voice cut through his reverie. “May I present the latest offerings of Simone Nascosto?”

She positioned herself beside him to give the deadly works of art her own full appreciation. “Breathtaking, aren’t they?”

 


	22. Chapter 22

On the promise of meeting Judith the next evening at the gallery for the advance exhibition which would host the elite of the town amongst art critics and journalists, Hannibal and she parted company.

As he drove, his destination clear in his mind, he gave thought to Judith Clarfore and found himself recalling the former patient who had died, rather unceremoniously at his hand, Franklyn Froideveaux. An innocent, unwitting and unobservant bystander in a duel to the death. A man desperate for friendship, drawn to those who would toy with him, place him beneath their spell and devour him piece by piece. Companion to the superficially gentle in one heartbeat, fodder for the ferociously feral in the next.

Equally unwittingly it would seem, Judith Clarfore had gravitated towards two such men and had succeeded in finding herself a third. And as far as Hannibal was concerned, when it came to individuals in possession of his design for life, while two was a challenge, three was most certainly a crowd.

He had not forgotten the starved, almost wanton look Simone Nascosto had lavished on Amy Raddison during their first meeting at Chateau Leda. Hannibal’s first impression had led him to believe his desire was purely sexual in nature, but on seeing the work that gave life to his vision of the world, his true passion and the nature of his mind had become as clear to Hannibal as the source of the material that permeated the canvasses themselves.

Hannibal’s love and appreciation of the fine arts had never been affected in such a way before. He inhaled a deep breath, attempting to salvage any remaining scent of the blood-soaked air, recalling the sparking of neurons, triggering beautiful red-stained memories of his own. Noticing that he was close to Chateau Leda, he nestled his car between two others, a little ways down the street on the same side as the restaurant. He checked his watch. Midnight. The place was shrouded in darkness, but he knew that the girl was working on a new menu, and had secured the contract with Judith’s gallery to provide the food for the next exhibition. She was enthusiastic, keen to excel and tenacious in her pursuits. Hannibal would not be a decent psychiatrist if he did not recognise the traits in another that he himself possessed, albeit drives with different ultimate goals.

Patience, of course, was also another quality Hannibal valued in himself. It could yield so many wonderful results if given its due appreciation. 

So Hannibal waited.

It was just past 1am when the girl appeared from around the side of the building, tossing her bag into the car and climbing in. Hannibal observed as she pulled into the road and trailed slowly off. He also observed, a few mere seconds later, a vehicle parked several cars in front of her now vacated space, fire up its engine and follow behind her.

Hannibal smiled to himself as he started up his own engine to follow. Fledgling killers were as predictable as the boiling point of water.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Hannibal drew his car to a halt just around the corner and out of sight of Amy’s building. He stepped out of the car and strolled confidently in the dim light to the street corner. He had not spotted any sign of her stalker’s car and was momentarily perplexed, until he noticed the man walking towards the apartment block.

Unmistakeable in his gait and stature. Nascosto. He watched silent and intrigued to see what the man would do. He was evidently here to snare his prey, and with less than two weeks available to produce his third piece of art for Judith’s exhibition, he was no doubt keen to secure the necessary art supplies required for production of said piece.

He entered the security code to the underground resident car park and walked through the gate, turning around to ensure he was unobserved by prying eyes as the gate came down behind him. A few minutes later, Hannibal heard the sound of a car alarm sounding in the darkness. Several minutes passed before it cut out. Hannibal could see the scenario play out in his mind as though he himself were executing the plan. The alarm sounded again very briefly and then silence. Hannibal noted three minutes passed before the gate rose again and Amy’s car exited the park, Simone Nascosto at the wheel. There was no doubt in Hannibal’s mind that Amy Raddison was unconscious either in the trunk of the car or lying bound and prone on the back seat.

He quickly turned and jogged back to his own car, diving in to follow.

The journey was brief. Evidently, the man was confident - or foolish - enough, to take his work home with him. Hannibal checked the time again. It was a little past 2am. He watched from a respectable distance as Nascosto, too pre-occupied with the task at hand to notice little else, as he lifted the girl from the back of his car and struggle with carefully constructed unsure movements, up the steps to the front door. To any passerby, it would look like nothing more than a man helping his drunken girlfriend or date for the night.

The door shut behind them. And Hannibal waited.

* * *

It was a little after 6am when Simone Nascosto left his apartment. Clean, calm and completely composed. Hannibal recognised the easy stride of a man who knew his place in the world. For now at least, he mused. Hannibal contemplated his next move, waiting several minutes to ensure Nascosto did not inadvertently return, due to perhaps retrieve a forgotten item. He exited his car and walked calmly up to the building. It was a work day and while he loathed making assumptions, he risked that someone would be exiting soon enough. He pressed the buzzer to Nascosto’s apartment and feigned minor frustration at no answer being forthcoming. A few minutes later, a woman appeared on the other side of the gate.

“Can I help you?” Hannibal’s appearance being impeccable enough not to cause her undue concern.

“Oh yes, if you could, Madam. I’m here to pick up one of your neighbours, Simone Nascosto? I must bring him to the gallery to finalise details for the exhibition, but he doesn’t appear to be answering.”

The mention of her handsome neighbour and blossoming talent was enough.

“Of course,” she beamed as she opened the outer gate to grant Hannibal access. “I’ve heard wonderful things about him you know,” she enthused. “He’s a bit of a mystery really,” her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. “If you could get me an invite I’d LOVE to go…” she concluded batting her eyelashes at Hannibal as she closed the door behind them.

“Madam,” he said, continuing his charm offensive, “after your wonderful assistance this morning, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to have your attendance. I will make the necessary arrangements.” She blushed profusely before Hannibal turned and bound up the stairs two at a time, eager to shake the woman off and assess the circumstances in which Amy was currently entrapped.

He listened at the door. Blues music softly played, but otherwise there was no sound within. He picked the lock with ease and entered, closing the door softly behind him. He walked towards the room adjoining the living area from which the music was coming which Hannibal correctly assumed was his creative space.

And creative indeed.

Hannibal’s breath caught in his throat.

“Signore Nascosto,” he murmured softly. “I do love your work….”

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little peek into the mind of Simone Nascosto. I sort of imagine him looking much like Anthony Dimmond.

CRACK!

“Do you not wish to be loved?”

CRACK!

“Worshipped by all who would look upon you?”

CRACK!

“Riverito and envied for the beauty you bring to the world?”

CRACK!

The girl walked from behind the boy to stand in front of and above his body, his breath ragged and shallow, his naked chest draped over and pressed into the canvas beneath him. Blood trickled from his back, tears fought their way through eyes tight shut against the pain, both mingling with the sweat coating his exhausted, broken body.

The girl gripped his chin and raised his head to look him in the eyes, which remained firmly shut.

“Simone.”

She exhaled an impatient breath.

“Simone. On your back. Per favore.” The boy complied, unquestioning the demand. He knew better than to deny his sister anything. 

His heart beat quickly in his chest, pulsing through his veins, pushing his life-force through the wounds that lined long and narrow across his once beautiful back, the blood seeping into and becoming one with the canvas beneath.

Minutes passed as his breathing returned to normal.

“Stand.” He rose, unsteadily, to his feet.

“Aprire il tuo occhio. Now. See.”

Ignoring the scorching pain rippling across his back, Simone forced his eyes open. He saw.

“For art to be truly beautiful, it must reflect life itself. You must be willing to sacrifice a piece of yourself to your work every time,” she said, authority and poise lacing her tone. “You must die a little so that God knows you are completely devoted to your creation.”

She watched him as she spoke. “Do you understand, little brother?”

He nodded.

“Bravo ragazzo.”

* * *

“You taught me well, sorella. I owe you so much. I feel this is but small recompense for all you have given me.”

“Simone… Stop… Pleasssseeee…”

“Immortalisation by your own creation is truly the most beautiful thing in the world, is it not? Do you think God would be pleased with how far I have come under your guidance and tutelage?”

“Simonnneee…Fratellooo….”

He reached for one of the larger brushes, running his fingers through its hair, hair that had once graced his sister’s head. 

He smiled benignly at her, sitting dazed and barely moving on the soft leather chair next to him. A dozen pots of red liquid lined the table between them, from each one a thin plastic tube led back to a needle protruding from her body.

“I only wish to make you proud,” he said. “And make you beautiful in your own immortality.”

He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her head before gently drawing the brush across the canvas before him.

“I make you now as you made me. We will always be together, mio caro….”

* * *

Hannibal took in the scene before him.

A bare canvas, the same dimensions as those he had not long since admired in Judith’s gallery, stood in the corner patiently awaiting its artist’s attention.

Amy was unconscious yet serene of expression, in a comfortable-looking leather chair, undoubtedly drugged to keep her incapacitated. A number of anticoagulant tubes sat on the floor on either side of her, each one at varying degrees of fullness. The blood flow from the needles, arranged in perfect symmetry from various points of her body and along her Chakra points, appeared to have been stopped while Nascosto was not there to supervise.

Hannibal surmised the man would not be away for long and was no doubt keen to make good on bringing his final piece to life. Hannibal also correctly surmised that the artist had no immediate intention of killing the girl or draining her dry. He would require a fresh and constant supply of blood for the time it would take to complete the piece.

In this respect, Hannibal was at least grateful, he had time to decide what to do next. As he committed the scene to memory, his mind turned to Will. Undoubtedly, he would soon discover her missing. But, not just yet. The hour was early and Hannibal had time. A gift precious and not to be squandered. 

Thrilling. Hannibal smiled. The thought of a righteous act of violence with his empath coursed hot through his body and brought goosebumps to his skin. He turned from the room and paused. The music had since stopped. He sought out the source and using his knuckle, hit the play button to resume the sounds of the raspy voice of Janis Joplin.

He cast one final glance at Amy. “Let’s see how strong you are, Miss Raddison,” he whispered, before turning on his heel and leaving her in the hands of fate.

 


	24. Chapter 24

_“Hannibal,” he began, unable to tamp down the hint of panic in his voice, even though he knew panic was useless. He was empathising with Amy’s fear, lending thought in his overactive imagination to the myriad of dangers in which she might now be while he, in this current moment, flailed about in his mind, helplessly impotent to save her._

_“James.” Will heard the firm, decisive tone. “I know.”_

* * *

 

Speculation and conjecture where the words and actions of Hannibal Lecter were concerned was ill-advised, a well established fact to which Will Graham could readily testify to through far too much past experience. Though how Hannibal could know what fate had befallen Amy without he himself being involved was a vexing and all-but-consuming consideration preying heavily on Will’s mind during the too-long cab journey to the Gallery.

Hannibal was standing at the gallery entrance waiting for Will, watching him as he exited the cab and hurriedly paid the driver.

He strolled up to him, his expression cold, calm and demanding. “Hannibal. What have you done?” he asked in a low tone.

Hannibal did not respond to the question. “Come, Will. There is something you must see.”

Will stood his ground, empathising with Hannibal’s composure, infuriating as it was. He knew frustration and anger would get him nowhere with the man. “What I would like to see, right at this moment in time, is Amy…” 

Hannibal nodded. “Of course you would. As would I.” Will frowned. Hannibal was no longer an enigma to him and Will was getting no sense that he had committed any misdemeanours.

“But in order to see Amy, you must first see what I am about show you.”

“If we’re back to playing games, Hannibal…”

Hannibal remained impassive. If Will had expected the implication that Hannibal had resumed a favoured pastime of playing with his food would get a reaction from him, he was destined for disappointment. 

Hannibal, in fact, did completely the opposite of what Will expected, stepping forward and kissing him firmly and with utter conviction. Will felt the heat of the kiss spread through his chest, chasing any doubts about Hannibal to the furthest recesses of his mind to melt into oblivion. Momentarily distracted by the unexpectedness of the kiss, Will allowed it to deepen further. A feeling of possessive surrender emanated from Hannibal. Will gave in to the emotion and felt it pool around his pounding heart, cushioning the feeling of panic for Amy’s welfare. His hands sat lightly on Hannibal’s waist while Hannibal pulled back from the empath, his hands resting on either side of his face.

He said nothing, allowing his eyes to convey the message. _Trust me._

Will closed his eyes and sighed. Right now, he didn’t feel like he had much of a choice in the matter.

* * *

“What do you see?”

Will and Hannibal stood side-by-side in the room playing host to Simone Nascosto’s works of art. 

Will closed his eyes and invited the veil to descend but unlike those interludes in the past when he stepped into the mind of another, Hannibal remained by his side, part and apart. 

Will stepped up to the first canvas on the left, he leaned close, catching the scent of life and death radiating from its surface and rousing his own demons within. The surface of the canvas rippled, coming alive before his eyes. Dark red hair flowed and waved, the hidden image turned to reveal a beautiful face. Her eyes opened. 

“I never meant to hurt him. Only to show him that the pain was necessary. To set his beauty free.” 

“Why pain?” Will asked.

“Pain is truth. Pain is lies. Pain is love…”

Will moved to the next canvas and Hannibal moved close behind him.

He whispered to Will. “Pain can show us who we really are. But like all things in this world, is only beneficial in moderation. Pain heals. In excess, it also breaks something already fragile within us.”

The woman’s image in the second canvas was looking past Will and smiling at Hannibal. “I know you. You make the pain go away…”

Will looked at the blank space on the right and saw Amy, Abigail, Margot, Alana, images shifted and morphed and blended together. “He has Amy. She’s his final piece.” He mentally stepped away and back to the present and looked at Hannibal. 

Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will in a soft embrace. “We’ll find her. Together.”

 

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

While he lay on that cold mountainside waiting for Death, Will Graham had come to several conclusions.

One, Hannibal Lecter was an evil, manipulative bastard. Two, being ripped apart by a bear would surely be a better death than giving Hannibal the satisfaction of killing him, and three, Hannibal Lecter was an evil, manipulative bastard. He also concluded that of all the final thoughts that could be floating around his head right now, they had to be of the man that had been the centre of his waking and dreaming thoughts and the bane of his existence since they crossed paths, never to be uncrossed…

_“Amy?”_

She had stumbled through the undergrowth like a predator herself and Will had instantly recognised in her all the signals and signs he had observed abstractedly in Abigail, only realising what they were after it was too late. Abigail had anchored his ship for a brief moment in time, while Hannibal had been the tempest which they had both weathered until he had successfully frayed the ropes of mutual death that had tethered them together. Abigail had battled with who she was. Will had helped Amy embrace her inherent darkness before it consumed her, manage it like a mother might manage an unruly adolescent, desperate to rule havoc.

Amy had saved him. He obviously had a real damsel in distress thing going on. He was starting to lose count of the number of times his ass had been handed to him on a plate, only for it to be returned to the kitchen at the backend of a crappy food van for a little longer in the pan or a bit more seasoning. Death just didn’t seem all that interested in making his acquaintance any time soon on anyone’s terms but His own.

Now, in the present, he sat next to the man who had several times tried to help him shake off his mortal coil, seeking out the whereabouts of a young woman who had kept him grounded for the past 9 months. Not for the first time, Will Graham wondered if he was on the side of the Devil without even realising it.

“Artists are the most private of people. Where would such a private individual seek solitude?”

“In the place where he felt safest no doubt. Where prying eyes, either deliberate or accidental, could not gaze upon his creations until he gave them permission to do so.”

“Then you agree the first place we should look?”

“His personal fortress. Where all is within easy reach and no one might be prone to query the unusual proclivities of the artistic temperament.”

Hannibal reached over to Will’s side in the passenger seat of his car to place a reassuring hand on his thigh. The gesture was oddly comforting. We continue to change each other, Will thought to himself, out of the blue.

“How do you know where he lives, Hannibal?”

Hannibal didn’t miss a beat. “He popped into the Gallery last night while Judith and I were finishing up. After I had seen his work, I realised the danger he presented. So, I departed first, waited outside from him to leave and followed him home.”

“But you saw nothing unusual en route?”

Hannibal looked Will in the eye for long enough to convey the necessary assurances. “Nothing Will, no.”

Silence hung between them for a few moments.

“Will.”

“Yes?”

“I must demand that, should we discover anything distressing, you do exactly what I say without hesitation, without question. This, after all, is a world that I have inhabited for much longer than you. It is a world that I know and understand as well as I do my own nature. The one thing we must not do is risk exposure by being ruled by our passions in our reactions and handling of the situation, and I know too well how impassioned you can be, Will, which, while welcome in some cases, would likely be most unwelcome in this particular instance.”

Will remained silent, giving the request due consideration.

“Do I have your assurances, Will?”

“I suppose you would consider it rude were I not to to accept your terms?”

“Quite so.”

“Then yes, Dr Lecter. I agree to your terms. On one condition.”

Hannibal waited.

“I and I alone kill Nascosto, if indeed he proves to be Amy’s captor.”

Hannibal nodded in acquiescence. “Such a request is perfectly justified, Will.”

___________________________________ 

Rarely was Hannibal Lecter was impressed.

But when he was, he took a moment to revel in the sensation. This predator, in the guise of Simone Nascosto, was particularly attentive for a man absorbed in creative endeavours. It seemed the message Hannibal had conveyed via the gravelly but dulcet tones of Janis Joplin on his recent visit had been received loud and clear by Signore Nascosto.

Amy was gone.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all still with me, right? I think, we are not far from the end...

The girl formerly known as Amy Sloane was no shrinking violet.

In her previous life perhaps she would have thought herself such, ruled and dominated as she was by a cruel father who would take all she had to give the world before she even knew what that “all” was, what it meant to be complete.

“ _Life’s brutal, girl. You’re damn lucky to have me to educate you on the real facts of life. The sooner you learn those facts, the better equipped you’ll be to deal with bastards like me.”_

And through it all, he’d grinned like a bastard too. Grinned like the maniac he was while she lay beneath him, too drugged to resist, to fight, to claw at his face until she was gouging eyes and was scrabbling at bone. Such pleasures she could only imagine to escape the horror of his invasion.

Her mother had tried to protect her, but in the end, her mother couldn’t even protect herself. So Amy had waited. Waited for the day when she would be strong enough to end the monster. The day was a long time coming, but in the end, she had recognised its form in the arrival of Will Graham. And she had grabbed the opportunity to escape with both hands and no hesitation.

And through Will Graham, she’d learned how to embrace the monsters. 

Amy Sloane is dead. Long live Amy Raddison.

 _Know thy enemy,_ he had said. _Embrace thy enemy. Love thy enemy. Keep him close to your heart. Maybe, just maybe then, you’ll survive him._

Will had given himself permission to love his own monster, though his was beautiful in his deadly brutality, and Amy would never have seen it in him without already being aware of its existence. But she recognised the sovereign of Will’s heart. Both God and Monster, a duality that simply… worked. Maybe that’s why Amy didn’t recognise the monster in Simone Nascosto, concealed so perfectly behind his beauty as well.

Amy forced herself back to consciousness, dimly aware of the sound of Janis Joplin in the background, rasping out the lyrics to Little Girl Blue. Alive? Yes. Still breathing. Yes. Weak maybe, but the bloodletting had stopped. Not so weak that she couldn’t pull the needles from her body. She had managed to conceal her mild drug addiction from Will and was determined to wean herself off them. Eventually. She was sort of glad now, that she hadn’t gotten round to it just yet. But aside from a high tolerance to sleep-inducing drugs, Amy was in possession of something else of which Simone Nascosto was unaware.

A tenacious will to survive. 

_______________

Simone stared at the tubes scattered around the floor and the empty chair where he had left the unconscious Amy Radisson less than two hours ago.  

Somehow, the girl had escaped. Surprisingly, given the amount of drugs he had given her to keep her subdued. Foolishly, he had underestimated the slight creature. But he would not run. Futile. He had been prepared to stand next to his gift to the world, his life in death, the truth of his soul. Every man should have the courage and conviction to stand next to his legacy. So he waited for the police to come. 

They did not. 

Which gave the artist pause for thought. What did Amy Raddison have to hide?

He gazed at the blank canvas, focussing his thoughts on its transformation. He still had a piece of art to reveal. 

He pulled out his cellphone and dialled a number. It rang twice before she picked up.

“Judith?”

“ _Simone! How lovely! Do tell. How is the final piece coming along?”_

“I suffer somewhat from a creative stifling, Judith, and find myself in need of a muse. May I impose upon your good nature for the day? I feel myself inspired in your presence.”

_“Oh, Simone! Nothing would bring me more pleasure! Bring everything you need and join me at my house. I’ll even cook us a delicious lunch. I’ll book us a table at Chateau Leda and you will stay the night in my guest room. I insist.”_

“Perhaps. Thank you, Judith. Your generosity knows no bounds and for that, I will be forever in your debt. I shall be with you within the hour.”

“ _See you soon, mia bella artista!”_

He hung up the call and gathered the tools of his trade.


	27. Chapter 27

Hannibal and Will exited Nascosto’s building, moving between the shadow hours, unseen within that reliable lull of activity when most normal humans were having their evening meal, and headed back towards Hannibal’s car. 

“What now?” Will breathed to himself, to the world, to no-one in particular. Hannibal opened his mouth to relay some quiet words of reassurance just as he heard the gentle vibration emanating from Will’s jacket and watched him scrabble at the pocket to retrieve his phone. 

He quickly whipped it out and frowned at the display. It was Amy’s number.

He hit green. “Philip?”

“James. It’s me.”

“Amy?!” Will whispered, voice hoarse and breaking slightly in its relief. He slumped against the bonnet of the car, the tension ebbing away from his entire body like a retreating tidal wave.

“Oh my God. Where are you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m at the restaurant, just about to start the evening service. I was just calling to reassure you? When I got here Philip told me he’d rung you after finding my phone outside my apartment block.” Stupidly fell out of my bag when I was scrabbling about for my keys last night and I didn’t notice it was missing until this afternoon,” she chuckled. Will couldn’t help thinking how alien was the sound given all the thoughts of her in danger over the course of the day. “Nearly sacked him on the spot for worrying you unnecessarily like that,” she continued.

Will stayed silent, wondering what she was trying to pull. She’d never lied to him before, to the best of his knowledge, and to lie about something as monumental as being abducted…. Hannibal for his part, watched the exchange with his usual degree of burgeoning curiosity about the behaviour of lesser mortals.

“Amy,” he said patiently. “You’ve been missing all day. You didn’t turn up for the morning prep…”

He heard her take a slow breath, a breath he’d often heard before revelations of an uncomfortable or shocking nature were forthcoming. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you… about… the years with my father… and drugs…”

Will frowned. He knew a stall when he heard one. He didn’t have to see her body language to sense the undertone. But he couldn’t figure out her true motivation for withholding the truth just then.

“I’m coming to the restaurant. Evidently, we need to talk face-to-face.”

Will had expected some resistance. “OK,” she sighed. “But can you come towards the end of service? So we can talk properly? I’ll reserve a table for you for 9.30. And bring Henrik, of course?”

Will looked up at Hannibal then, never unaware of the presence of the man. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the invitation,” Will responded levelly.

“See you then, James.” And the line went dead.

Hannibal looked questioningly at Will. “We appear to have a dinner invitation.”

“Excellent,” came Hannibal’s reply. “I do enjoy being cooked for on occasion. Particularly if I am amongst the first to sample a new season menu,” he stated, with the perpetual nonchalance he conveyed in all circumstances, as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Was the man ever not in control?

Will climbed in next to him, closing his eyes and propping his head back on the rest behind him, a troubled look painted across his soft features. Hannibal reached across with a reassuring touch to the hand that lay on his thigh.

“Relax, William. Now, at least, you know she is safe and evidently unharmed.”

Will gave him a sideways glance. “Yes. Though now, I’m beginning to wonder for the safety of others…”

Hannibal smiled to himself as he started up the engine. He had been impressed, but it appeared his admiration had been levelled in the wrong direction. Simone had not relocated his captive. She had escaped his obviously inept clutches.  _Audentes Fortuna Luvat,_ he thought to himself. Experience had taught Hannibal that lesson early on in his life teachings. And it appeared that Amy had also been a willing student of the many and varied lessons of which she had been recipient.

 _Strong you are indeed, Miss Raddison,_ he mused quietly to himself. The next generation of predatory gods to walk amongst men might be more than even Hannibal Lecter bargained for. 

It was a good time to be alive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Audentes Fortuna Luvat translates to Fortune Favours the Brave/Bold/Daring. 
> 
> The final couple of chapters (and perhaps an epilogue) pends. This will be difficult. Like Hannibal, I hate letting go. I hope you will be patient while I figure out how the end of this story plays out. 
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos and eye time. I've enjoyed the company.


	28. Chapter 28

“Will.”

Will looked at Hannibal as they walked towards the restaurant and felt the predator rouse in the man next to him. He followed his darkening gaze towards the window of Chateau Leda. A few tables back from the front, sat Judith Clarfore and opposite her, his back to the window, the unmistakeable sharply-carved outline of Simone Nascosto.

Will went rigid.

“What the—“

Hannibal took a hold of his forearm, as Will made a move that suggested he was going to storm the building and bring the whole world crashing down upon them, consequences be damned.

“Will. Look at me. Please.”

Will didn’t want to look at Hannibal. What he wanted was to break Simone Nascosto’s fingers one by one. The blood from the canvas he had gazed upon earlier, seeped from the confines of their containing edges and soaked the murderous intent flaring in his mind, drowning all rationale. He didn’t want to look at Hannibal knowing full well that he would take complete calm control of the situation. King on the chessboard, while he commanded his pawns and strategised their moves for victory. A victory slow and carefully played out, just to Hannibal Lecter’s liking.

“Will.”

Denial, however, was fleeting and fruitless. Will Graham was part of Hannibal Lecter’s design now. An odd sensation of protectiveness descended. Will turned towards him then, realising Hannibal was projecting the series of thoughts and feelings onto him that had just flitted through his mind.

_Know thy enemy. Embrace thy enemy. Then maybe, you just might survive him._

“Do you trust me?” He gave voice to the question despite knowing the answer, expecting none other.

“Yes,” Will whispered.

He moved closer to him and brought a hand up to rest on his cheek. “Then welcome the veil. Step past it and into me. Become me. See as I see…”

So Will did.

And as he gazed at himself through those amber eyes, he saw nothing but desire and beauty reflected back.

He breathed out a long, calming sigh just as Hannibal tore his eyes away from him to look over his shoulder. Will glanced over his shoulder as well, to see Judith waving and gesturing them to come inside and join them. As Simone was turning to assess the focus of her attention, before meeting his eyes, Hannibal trained his gaze on Will’s once more.

“Shall we, James?” he smiled as he proffered a hand towards their final destination and raised an eyebrow, “join some new friends for dinner?”

Will returned the smile. “It would be a pleasure, Henrik.”

_______________

**_Earlier that day, at Judith Clarfore’s Residence…_ **

“Tell your muse all about it, my darling Simone. All the details! You know your happiness means the world to me and as the completion of your work is your happiness, I will do all I can to help you.”

Simone sighed, dropping his head to her lap, pliant and calm now in her presence, the feel of Judith’s warm hands pushing through wavy, dark hair, pushing his feeling of failure briefly to the back of his mind.

“She escaped, Judith.” Her hand stopped in mid-motion. The brief memory flitting into her mind of the time not so long ago when she had escaped becoming the ink on Simone’s canvas by convincing him of how beautiful it could truly be if he allowed her to help him. Persuasion was a finely honed weapon in the arsenal of Judith Clarfore. It rarely failed her. Rarely.

The tone of her voice sent a chill down his spine. “When? How?”

He sat up. Judith kept her expression neutral and guarded, not wishing to distress the man until she extracted the necessary information from him.

“This morning. Early. After I had set up my studio, I noticed a flaw in the canvas so was forced to go out and seek a replacement. I left her heavily drugged, there was no way—“

Judith’s tone remained cold. “Evidently, you were incorrect in your assessment of her incapacitation.” She frowned after a moment. “Wait. This morning you say?” She stood and paced in front of him as he remained still on her sofa. “Why are the authorities not yet then beating down your door?”

He shrugged. “I have little to offer in answer to that question, except all I can think is perhaps Amy Raddison has herself something to hide from the world.”

Judith contemplated. She thought of James Turner. She had been enraptured, but he was incapable of looking at her with the affection he so evidently held for the Raddison girl and on introducing him to Henrik, and seeing the passion slowly flare between them, she had understood then that his affection for Amy was fraternal. But it didn’t make the knowledge of that shared affection any more bearable. Remove Amy Raddison and perhaps their mutual friendship would blossom into something similar. She could sense his empathy radiating with every moment spent in his presence. It was intoxicating. She had wanted more. Wanted it all, but such could not come to pass with the girl who currently stood front and centre of his world blocking her path to him. Perhaps they had something to hide together. Few knew better than Judith Clarfore that secrets were power…

Judith resumed her seat next to Simone and gently guided his head back into her lap again as though all was forgiven. She smiled softly as she leaned down to brush lips against his temple. “Are you hungry, my beautiful boy? I think the culinary delights of Chateau Leda beckon our rumbling insides this evening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the stage is set. What fate awaits our deadly star-crossed empath and his predator?


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very happy Christmas to you all, AO3ers. How many of you will be quoting that immortal line at your dinner tables tomorrow?
> 
> "Nothing here, is vegetarian."

“I’ve been meaning to have you both for dinner, as I haven’t had the pleasure of cooking in your company, Simone. There is little more fulfilling than cooking with friends, acquaintances and lovers,” Henrik said smoothly to their dinner companions.

Judith gave her most radiant smile while James raised an eyebrow. “Lovers, plural, Henrik? I certainly hope not.”

He leaned over and laid a hand affectionately on James’, resting on the table next to his wine glass. “I only have love’s eyes for you as you well know, dear James.” He feigned a sigh before leaning back and picked up his own glass. “My only regret is that I am not adorned with many, many more so that I may drink in your appearance from every available perspective simultaneously.”

Despite the situation, Will found himself blushing under Hannibal’s scrutiny, Judith’s mild adoration and Nascosto’s curious gaze, as though trying to figure out a puzzle. No wonder Will had never been able to see Hannibal’s true colours, if he could garner such a response from him, in this most bizarre of circumstances, knowing all the truths as he did.

Life was a circus and Hannibal Lecter was its Ringmaster.

They had whiled away an hour talking art, the gallery, Henrik’s time in Europe and James love of fishing. Will allowed himself the privilege of surrounding himself almost completely in Hannibal’s emotional fortress for the duration of the conversation, his mind wandering on occasion to dwell on exactly what Hannibal was planning and how Will himself would factor into the game. 

Amy couldn’t go to the police for fear of exposing he and Hannibal. So Simone knew she was hiding something, protecting truths and lies. This gave him an advantage. It was yet unclear to Will how that advantage would be played.

“You are indeed most fortunate to have found each other,” said Judith, voice edged with a hint of envy and regret. “While I take a little of the credit for introducing you, I am almost certain that destiny surely had a hand in your—“

She cleared her throat as a look flashed across her face that Will recognised all too well. It had betrayed Clark Ingram’s true nature - covet. 

Service was over, the kitchen was closed and the restaurant patrons were slowly departing. Naturally, Amy would come out to greet them. He heard her voice from behind him. “I hope my new menu did not disappoint my most distinguished guests.” Will stood up quickly and turned around, looking at her appraisingly. Pale but apparently unharmed. 

She and he had talked some of the traumas she had known at the hands of her father, but Will had respected her wishes and hadn’t pushed for more. It was an easy enough thing to see in the early days of their acquaintance. She had saved him, and in return, he had allowed his empathy to help her face the demons and heal. She was so, so strong… She was smiling at him, a smile which faded ever so slightly when her eyes fell on Simone Nascosto who had risen and given a little bow in her direction.

“Truly exquisite, Miss Raddison,” he intoned flatly.

Will had his back to the man so Simone did not see the look that passed across his face but Amy did. Amy resisted the urge to frown. _How could he know?_ she thought to herself. But know he did. Amy quickly weighed her options. Hannibal saw Will’s shoulder tense ever so slightly so stepped up behind him and placed a hand on the small of his back.

“I couldn’t agree more with Signore Nascosto, Miss Raddison,” Hannibal said with a modest smile. “You are a credit and an inspiration to your profession.”

She couldn’t resist a blush despite the reality of the man in her immediate presence, he who had tried to drain her dry mere hours in the past. “Thank you, Mr Rufus. Knowing your skills with all manner of culinary delicacies as I do, that is high praise. I hope, someday in the near future, you would join me in my kitchen. I imagine there is much I could learn from you…”

“No doubt,” he said. The girl was growing on him. He could understand Will’s affection for her and how she had so effectively been the balm he needed to deal with his own many losses. He cast the artist a brief glance. He would be a relatively easy kill - for him or for Will.

“My dear…,” began Judith, rising from her seat at the table in the now deserted restaurant, aside from two staff putting things to rest in the kitchen. “I wonder if I might impose on a little of your time to discuss the menu for the exhibition next weekend?”

Hannibal felt Will bristle beneath his quiet projected demeanour at her words. Evidently, he was sensing another layer to the situation of which Hannibal was yet unaware.

Amy looked at her and smiled. “Of course, Judith. Now would be a perfect time. Just give me a few minutes to send the staff home and we can talk in the office.”

“Wonderful, thank you, Amy,” Judith said as she retreated to her seat again.

“I should be going, Judith, if I am to make headway on the final piece for the exhibition.”

“Oh yes, quite, Simone. My car will take you home and then can return for me. I’m sure Amy and I will rattle right through what needs to be discussed in the interim.”

He took his leave and headed outside.

Amy nodded, a look of relief that could have been mistaken simply for a welcome end to a busy service, but Hannibal and Will knew better.

Hannibal moved in front of Will then. “You and I should be going as well, James. The hour is late and I am not a young man, young as you make me feel,” he said, leaning over to brush lips gently with his own, betraying nothing out of the ordinary to Judith or the departing artist.

“Perhaps we should wait for Amy?” Will said flatly, allowing but not returning the gesture.

“Nonsense,” Judith bustled. “I can take Amy home in my car when we are done. I insist!” she said with a bright smile that did nothing to alleviate Will’s sense of disquiet.

“Thank you, Judith,” said Hannibal. “Most gracious of you.”

Will looked after Amy’s retreating back as Hannibal took him by the elbow after saying goodbye to Judith and manoeuvred him out the door. Just as they exited they caught sight of Judith’s car pulling away from the kerb.

“Hannibal…”

“I have no intention of leaving, Will. Nor, I believe does Signore Nascosto.”

His expression darkened again but Will could see the barest hint of excitement sparkle behind his predatory gaze. The hungry kiss that followed made his heart stutter. 

“We end this. Tonight.”

Will felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out. A message from Amy. She appeared to have weighed up her options with little hesitation on deciding what needed to be done.

_I lure him. You land him._

Hannibal looked at the screen, reading the message himself. “It appears Miss Raddison and I are in agreement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amy knows the monsters all too well. Would that we each could face them with her strength and beat them into submission at their own game.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was fun. An epilogue remains so we can send our deadly duo on sabbatical. Thanks so much for reading.

The final patrons now gone, and barely able to maintain a calm veneer in the presence of her abductor, Amy returned to bolt the door and turned back in the direction of the kitchen to usher the last of her staff home for the night. She smiled as she passed Judith, who was finishing her coffee alone at her table.

“Won’t be long, Mrs Clarfore.”

Judith nodded in response and, once Amy had disappeared into the bowels of the restaurant, took her opportunity to walk to the front entrance, and unbolt the door.

___________

Hannibal and Will made their way to the back of the building, and waited in the shadows until they saw the last of the staff depart the building and head their separate ways. They watched as Philip lingered a little longer to say goodnight to Amy. Hannibal glanced at Will and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Do you approve?” Will could hear the small tease in his tone.

“Time will tell.”

Hannibal could sense, though not see, the sideways expression as he recalled their conversation about Amy.

What they did not see, from their position of observation at the rear entrance, was Simone Nascosto slip back through the front door.

_____________

After Hannibal insisted they wait a few more minutes, _“nothing good has ever come from fools rushing in where angels fear to tread, dear Will”_ deploying his talents and understanding of the empath’s mind to keep him calm, they approached the door silently. Will removed his key and slipped it into the lock. It was then they heard the crash from the kitchen and Will hurriedly entered, momentarily forgetting the composure projected by Hannibal, while Hannibal hung back for a moment in the hopes of assessing the situation before - perhaps - the necessity of intervention.

Simone Nascosto stood behind Amy, a hand around her neck and a cloth pressed to her face. Will watched as he allowed her to fall to the ground at his feet on looking up from his task to see Will tumbling unceremoniously through the back entrance.

Their eyes met and before Nascosto even had time to recover from his surprise at being caught in the act, Will had picked up the nearest thing to him - a glass jug - and threw it at him. It caught his shoulder as he dived to the side. Will lunged, tackling the artist to the ground. Anger seeped from his pores, yet he had never felt more in control. Hannibal was close. If he needed him, he would come. In the meantime, there were some lessons to be taught to those who would hurt those precious to Will Graham. He had lost too much, and come too far, to tolerate anymore. Hannibal’s words echoed in his mind. _We end this. Tonight._

In that moment, Hannibal walked through the back door and Judith appeared at the kitchen door. She smiled at him, as she would a friend. And stepping across the girl on the floor and ignoring the scuffling pair of men engaged in physical combat, she strolled over to Hannibal who was smiling in return.

She stopped in front of him. “I have done all you asked. Have I pleased you, Henrik? Please tell me you are happy.”

He raised a hand to her face, smiling. “You have done most admirably, Judith. Come now. We must spirit you away from here,” he said, taking her hand to lead her through the alleyway.

He had her by the elbow as they walked away from the building, Hannibal glancing back but once, although completely confident that Will was getting and maintaining the upper hand. His motivation should certainly keep him focussed enough to bring down Nascosto on his own.

“You brought the gun as I suggested?”

Judith reached into her bag as they walked to pull out the weapon. “Of course.”

“Well done, my darling,” he said, reaching to take it from her. It was always a sound and well thought idea to have a weapon with another person's fingerprints on it as insurance in case events deviated from the desired path of least resistance. They walked across the deserted street to his car and climbed in. Hannibal leaned over to bestow a soft kiss on her lips. He drew back. “Alas, my dear, this is where we must bid each other a fond farewell,” he whispered, tightening his grip around her neck.

_____________

“Why Amy?” Will said calmly, his grip on Nascosto’s throat not loosening.

“I wanted to extend my reach, beyond family. Judith showed me how,” breaths coming shallow. “I found the killing awoke greatness in me.”

“There is no denying your talent, Signore Nascosto. But I fear you reached just a little too far,” Will said, his grip wringing the last moments of life from the artist’s body.

_____________

The latest exhibition was met with the usual enthusiastic rapture. Hannibal hosted the evening, having secured a significant enough share in the gallery to act on Judith’s behalf in her absence. The guests were so impressed by the exhibition and the accompanying menu that many suggested Chateau Leda be contracted to provide the dining for all future events. Hannibal was powerless to refuse.

Yes, Henrik Rufus had intoned sadly to those who enquired after Judith’s whereabouts, she had left town quite abruptly on discovering that her patronage of Simone Nascosto had been abused, on the run it had come to light, from the French authorities who wished to question him about the unusual circumstances surrounding the death of his sister in Paris. He himself had disappeared. 

Simone’s works - known collectively as Reversal of Fortune - would be confiscated in two days and remained under guard until that time. In the meantime, people would flock to cast their eyes upon the work of a killer.

And in the bottom left corner of the third piece, added to the collection just before the artist's disappearance - a feminine outline lay curled up on its side in a foetal position, a signature. But as with most things in the case of Hannibal Lecter, it would remain invisible to you, unless you already knew it was there.


	31. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are. Epilogue time. Completely unnecessary for the story, but moments of intimacy between Hannibal and Will are necessary for my sanity, given the last act of Season 3. You know who you are, Mr Fuller, you tease :D.
> 
> Comments are always welcome. It is good for the improvement of any writer to know what the reader thinks. Thanks all.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the tale, thanks for tagging along and I'll be shortly back to continue my other Hannigram, Icy Inferno.
> 
> Happy holidays, you tasty humans.

Sicily was beautiful all year round, Siracusa in particular, especially so on mornings such as these, the veranda bathed in warm morning sun and an equally warm breeze sweeping gently through the trees it overlooked. It was little wonder it held a special place in the hearts of Archimedes and Socrates.

Of course, present company only added to the aesthetics of the place.

“You are staring, Will.” Hannibal did not need to look at him from behind his paper to feel the man’s roaming gaze.

_Will’s hands rested flat and splayed against the wall._

Hannibal continued, his attentions remaining elsewhere. “You are considering the full gravity of recent events.”

_He is waiting._

“Recent events have been significant enough for thoughtful consideration, don’t you agree?” asked Will.

_It isn’t long before the quiet sounds of a predator enter the room, stalking his compliant prey. Will doesn’t look. Eye contact is unnecessary._

Hannibal folded the paper, and then his hands, upon his crossed legs.

_Will feels the air shift behind him and the appraising gaze travel across his heated, naked skin._

“On that observation, I cannot disagree,” concurred Hannibal.

_Still, Will does not move._

Will considers all the packs to which he had, at one time or another, belonged. His gentle dogs, lost souls looking for somewhere to belong themselves in a world that had stripped them of their true predatory desires through generations of forced unnatural selection. 

_The soft, unhurried sounds of clothes parting from skin and falling to the floor is the only noise heard besides his slow, steady breath._

The pack at the FBI, led by their Alpha, Jack Crawford, hunter of hunters. Will whipped and trapped in a perpetual circle of failure, wanting to be better, forcing his true nature to bend to that want, to please his misguided Alpha, only for the want to snap back hard and unforgiving. Lessons hard learned.

_A hand reaches for one of his own, travelling from his shoulder up his forearm to lace fingers between those pressed against the wall. Lips come to rest against the crown of his head, unmoving, just breathing._

“Last night. You said—“

_The words are unspoken, but Will hears them as clearly as if they had voice._

The pack to which he now belongs, to which he’d always belonged. 

_Tell me what you need._

“I do not recall saying anything at all, Will.”

_Will looks at the large, tanned hand placed firmly over his own before dropping his head slightly and closing his eyes. That is answer enough._

“Very well. Perhaps you didn’t, or didn’t need to say the words for me to hear them,” Will replied.

_I have everything I need, came the silent response._

_“_ You spoke through your body with more than enough conviction for me to hear the words without that need,” he continued.

_A second hand reaches around his body to splay warm, welcome heat across his sternum._

The moments passed as they gazed at each other.

_Again, the silent question._

“I hoped for you to understand. My unequivocal commitment to you. To this. An unspoken vow.”

_Then tell me what you want._

“I understand that. Now, Hannibal.”

_In answer, Will tilts his head to one side, giving Hannibal the invitation he needs to fulfil his demand._

Hannibal remained reclined in his seat as he sips his coffee. “I see you. Do you see me now?”

_You are all I have, and all I will ever want._

“More clearly even than I see myself…”

_For as long as it lasts._

_For as long as it lasts._


End file.
